


lucky

by catbeans



Series: sometimes there are consequences to physically traumatic events [3]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Hospitals, M/M, surgery mentions but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbeans/pseuds/catbeans
Summary: There wasn't a huge population of organics on Tatooine, but everyone knew someone who was missing a hand or a limb from an accident, or had to fashion a prosthetic out of debris that did nothing but lengthen a stump to meet the ground, or give someone an immobile rake of a hand. Tatooine was an unforgiving place, and there were never enough resources for genuinely adequate medical care.-Luke's prosthetic, his lightsaber, and the space between a near-death experience and a rescue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this started as filling in for the magical healing trope around lukes hand because i hate it (basically how luke loses his hand and this is almost never acknowledged by the plot except the blink-and-you-miss-it moment where his prosthetic gets shot and he puts on the glove), and then it kind of kept going because a certain someone decided to deus ex machina the shit out of luke getting his green lightsaber, by ~reaching out w his mind~ to find all the parts when they wouldnt even be in production anymore?? like?? come on. also i think luke+lando would be cute together

Luke, all things considered, was lucky in at least one respect.

There wasn't a huge population of organics on Tatooine, but everyone knew someone who was missing a hand or a limb from an accident, or had to fashion a prosthetic out of debris that did nothing but lengthen a stump to meet the ground, or give someone an immobile rake of a hand. Tatooine was an unforgiving place, and there were never enough resources for genuinely adequate medical care.

Luke fell, down and down and down the shaft, and he didn't think much about his hand, or even that he would probably  _ splat _ to the bottom and die; before Vader had even said he was Luke’s father, before he fell, he already found himself settling into the resignation that losing a body part meant not getting it back. That wasn’t big enough to concern himself with right then.

He didn't die, though. Leia and Lando and Chewie came back for him. Leia gave him a shot of something that left the injection site feeling cold and sore, before quickly dulling the explosive, burning pain in his arm that he could finally feel without the adrenaline rushing to keep him up and alive. His head felt fuzzy.

His wrist was wrapped and shut into some sort of metal casing, which Lando explained; the words rolled right off him, but Luke still found himself thankful for the warm, honey-smooth voice to at least break the silence, hanging heavy and thick on all of their shoulders.

Luke could feel the ache in all of their chests just as strongly as his own, and the stiff, almost uncomfortable feeling coming from Lando, in borrowed clothes and a pilot’s chair that didn't feel like his own anymore.

Luke pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees, and he felt out for Han.

There was nothing there.

It wasn’t the same kind of nothing he felt, before he realized what he was feeling, when he came across Owen and Beru’s scorched bodies, or when Obi-Wan died, or when he managed to destroy the Death Star and the buzz of thousands of bodies went so still and quiet he could feel it through the explosion. Those were like a light switch being turned off, but the lightbulb was still where it was supposed to be, even in the dark. This was like the lightbulb was gone. This felt like a black hole. 

The ache in his chest turned into a prodding, anxious stab. The certainty that he was doing the right thing by leaving Dagobah was gone, replaced with a feeling of deep failure.

Maybe if he had gone earlier, or faster, or.

No. It didn't matter, Luke told himself. It was done. There was no redo. He had to plan better. He had to go back to Dagobah.

Luke looked down at where his right hand would be, and then he looked at his left. He thought about breaking his arm when he was twelve, and having to get used to using his left hand almost exclusively. Writing was sloppy, brushing his teeth took a little getting used to, but he had figured out how to manage, how to do his work and get around while his right arm was pinned to his torso in a cast and a sling. He could do it again.

“Leia.” Luke could see her eyes flick up to meet his in the reflection of the glass in front of them. “I have to go back.”

He caught the flash of something in her eyes, raw and angry and scared, before she spun around to face him. “What are you talking about?”

“I need.” He stopped, took a deep breath, willed away the thick feeling in his head from the anesthetic. “I need to go back to Dagobah.”

Chewie rumbled out something Luke couldn't make out, and Leia and Lando exchanged confused, concerned glances before Leia looked at him again.

“We need to deal with your hand before you go anywhere, Luke.”

“I have to go back. I need to go back.” Luke was having trouble getting the words out clearly. His whole body felt far away. “Leia, take me back,  _ please _ , I need to get to Yoda--”

“No.” Leia’s lips pressed together in a thin line, with sad eyes and a sigh that left her looking deflated. “It's a wonder you're not dead. You're not going anywhere like this.”

“I have to train--”

“With  _ one hand _ ?”

“What else am I going to do?!”

Leia and Lando locked eyes again.

“Luke,” said Lando, flipping some switches Luke couldn't see and turning around to face him. “You don't have to do anything with one hand. We’re getting you to a real medic and they'll fit you right up with another one. Good as new. You’ll barely be able to tell the difference.”

Luke looked down at his left hand, and the metal casing at his right wrist. Through the fog in his head he remembered Hoth, and the medical equipment he had never seen before, and he nodded.

 

Luke was strapped into a stretcher and wheeled out of the Falcon as soon as they landed--Luke wasn't quite sure where--but he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the glaring lights and sterile-white walls, the smell of disinfectant stinging in his nose.

The stretcher lurched over a bump, and Luke bit back a groan at the way it jostled his arm.

“Where's…” Luke had to take a deep breath. “Where are--”

“Your friends are just outside,” a nurse said above him, and Luke bit the inside of his cheek.

His left hand was roughly unstrapped, and then a mask was put over his mouth and his nose, and everything went dark before he heard someone finish saying, “Count back from ten.”

 

Luke had never woken up like this before.

It was different than coming out of the bacta tank on Hoth--that had been more like waking up after sleeping in too late, groggy and a little disorienting, but  _ this. _

It felt like being pulled into consciousness through a thick jelly that didn’t want to let go, a heavy haze through his whole body that stuck to him like tar.

It was slow, and then it was very fast, the lights glaring above him washing out his whole field of vision; the sensation coming back to his arm hit him like a wall, every cut and bruise suddenly making itself known with a vengeance, and he could feel something cold and sticky on his left hand.

Luke grit his teeth and turned his head away from the lights, sucking in a deep breath. His throat felt raw.

He jerked at the feeling of a hand on his left arm before he heard Leia’s voice cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Luke.”

He stiffly turned his head to face her. “Is it…?”

His voice was so scratchy and thin he could barely hear himself, but Leia nodded.

“Everything went fine. You just need to calibrate the prosthetic once you're feeling up to it. They could have done this without putting you under, but.” She paused, and Luke saw her eyes flick towards his other side; he couldn’t bring himself to look at it yet. “With the way the wound cauterized, they had to amputate further up your arm, to connect the nerves.”

Luke had never been squeamish, but that didn’t keep down the wave of nausea from the thought of it, the memory of the smell of burning skin overpowering the soapy, sterile smell throughout the room.

“What's that stuff,” he croaked, clearing his throat, but it only made it hurt more. “On my hand?”

“Oh.” Leia pulled her hand back from Luke's arm. “It was for scanning your hand, so the prosthetic would be a match. Same skin, same muscle tone…” She trailed off, chewing her lip. “It looks good as new. Or old, I guess.”

Luke finally looked down to his right; he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't a perfect replica of his left hand, poreless and unbandaged like nothing had happened. The only visible evidence that anything  _ had _ happened was a tiny, hair-thin line a few inches above his wrist, and he might not have even noticed if he wasn't looking for it.

His chest felt funny.

There was something almost unsettling about it, and he couldn't help feeling a little guilty for thinking so, when almost all the amputees he'd met on Tatooine were left to figure it out themselves, making do with whatever they could put together unless they had the money and the time to afford going off-planet.

Luke twitched the fingers of his left hand, and his right stayed motionless.

A sense of urgency suddenly punched through the daze from the anesthesia, and he would have jerked upright if his whole body didn't feel so  _ heavy. _

“When can I leave?”

Leia frowned. “Don't hold your breath. Your hand isn't even fully hooked up yet.”

Luke grit his teeth and breathed out slowly. “And  _ that?” _

Leia caught the attention of one of the med droids, wheeling over so fast it almost tipped over when it stopped at the side of his bed.

“How is the patient?” it chirped, relentlessly cheery in the way only a droid could be. Luke wondered what the programming was like for a good bedside manner.

“Um.”

“Luke would like to know when his hand can be calibrated,” Leia cut in.

The droid looked up at something above Luke's bed, and then, “Once the patient is able to urinate and walk unassisted. Would you like a bedpan?”

Luke's cheeks felt hot, and he shook his head. “Can I get up?”

The droid pinged for a nurse, and Luke’s bed was wheeled into another room, Leia following right behind. The droid zipped out as soon as Luke had been pushed into place, leaving him with the nurse and Leia standing at the end of the bed, lumpy plastic bag in hand.

“Can I get up now?” Luke asked again, antsy from being stuck like this when there was so much for him to  _ do, _ and why didn't anyone else understand the hurry?

The nurse pinched his wrist, looking at their watch for a few seconds before collapsing one of the side-guards on the bed, hitting a button that pushed the top half of the mattress upright. “Don't rush yourself.”

Leia rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to smile, and Luke felt a little of the weight lift off his chest.

Luke pushed himself up, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed and scooting forward until his feet hit the floor. He took a deep breath before pushing off the edge of the bed; Leia came over to hold an arm out to help him up, but he waved her away and took a couple shaky steps forward, his whole body stiffening up against the way the room spun.

His arms felt tingly, and his hand ached where there was only metal and synthetic skin. He held his right arm close to his chest, his hand flopping at the wrist.

“Is there a--?”

The nurse pointed to a second door in the corner, and the grippy stuff on the bottom of the socks they'd given him squeaked as he slowly shuffled over.

He reached out with his right hand to open the door before pulling it back like he'd been burned, biting his lip for a second before opening it with his left.

Luke's cheeks felt hot again when he realized he was wearing nothing but the socks and a hospital gown, the hair on his legs bristling with the chill. The toilet paper was on the wrong side for his good hand, and Luke shook his head with a huff, awkwardly reaching over with his left.

The smell of the hand soap made him think of cough medicine.

Luke frowned at the glob of soap in his hand, smearing it around his palm with his fingertips. He had to use his right forearm to get as much of the slick stuff off his other hand as he could, frowning at the cold, tacky residue it left behind.

Luke froze up for a second when he caught himself in the mirror above the sink, his hand going still under the faucet. He looked almost as clammy and pale as when he'd gotten hit with a nasty virus years back, laying him up for weeks, his eyes ringed in soft purple, hair all clumped and messy.

Luke grit his teeth and looked away, wiping his hand off on the hospital gown.

He remembered to use his left hand to open the door this time, keeping his arms tight at his sides to try to keep the gown from opening at the back, and Leia smiled reassuringly from one of the chairs by the bed.

“The nurse went to get you a wheelchair, to take you to get your hand hooked up.”

Luke rubbed at the seam on his right wrist. “Can’t I just walk?”

Leia shook her head. “It's protocol after general anesthesia, apparently.”

Luke heard wheels squeaking before the nurse came back in, and the state of the wheelchair seemed incongruous with how high-tech everything else was, rickety and over-worn.

Luke dropped his arms at his sides, fidgeting with the hem of the hospital gown. “Can I have my clothes back?”

“Oh.” 

Luke had almost forgotten about the bag, and Leia picked it up from the corner to bring it over to him. 

“Your clothes were--we couldn't keep them, but Lando and I managed to find something.”

Luke nodded, numbly taking the bag from her and shuffling back towards the bathroom.

“Pull the cord by the toilet if you need help,” the nurse said.

Luke nodded again as he pulled the door shut, the bag crammed under his arm.

He didn't want to need help.

In the bag was a plain pair of pants and a shirt not unlike what he was given on Hoth, off-white and a little starchy; at least there weren't any closures, he thought, fighting with the right sleeve when he couldn't straighten his wrist.

The hospital gown had come off easily, sliding off his shoulders the second he pulled open the knots at the back of his neck and his waist, but he'd forgotten how much of a hassle it could be getting pants on one-handed.

Luke had to shuffle to keep from tripping on the hems on his way out of the bathroom, folding the hospital gown over his arm.

“Ready to go?” Leia asked.

Luke nodded stiffly, handing the hospital gown to the nurse. He couldn't help feeling a bit babied, wondering why she felt the need to ask when all he could think about was getting out of there.

The nurse had to hold the handles to keep the wheelchair from tipping when Luke could only use his left hand to lower himself into it. The foot rests left his ankles at an awkward angle, and he cradled his right arm against his stomach, shifting uncomfortably against the backrest that wouldn't lie flat.

Having to be pushed only exacerbated the feeling that he was wasting time, dragging the seconds out impossibly slower. He barely registered what Leia was saying as she walked next to him, nodding whenever she paused, and he couldn't tell why his heart raced the further they went, around indistinguishable corners and identical halls.

The wheels screeched when the nurse made a sharp turn into one of the rooms, snapping him out of the loop of  _ I have to go I have to go I have to go. _ This room was smaller, but with windows that kept it from feeling like he was boxed in, mostly empty aside from a reclining examination chair with long armrests folded out at the sides.

Luke pushed himself up as soon as he was within a couple steps of it, flopping gracelessly into the examination chair before the nurse even finished telling him he could get up.

They pushed the left armrest in, leaving the right extended.

“A 2-1B should be with you in a few minutes,” they said, nodding at Leia on their way out. 

“Thank you,” Leia called out after them.

Luke fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. He'd seen a few 2-1Bs on Tatooine, mostly modified for other jobs, or disassembled for parts, but he knew of one or two that were still fitted for various medical duties for the lucky few who could pay.

He never had been able to figure out a good reason for seeing a droid to be so expensive.

He wasn't sure what to expect from a 2-1B still used for its original purpose, but he was startled by the attachment on one arm, long and sharp and intimidating.

“Verify patient name, please,” it said, mechanical and without the same cheeriness of the first droid.

“Luke Skywalker.”

The 2-1B came over to his right, and Luke took a deep breath, unable to look away from the attachment in place of its hand.

“Arm up, please.”

Luke lay his arm out on the armrest, his hand flopping limply over the edge of it. He glanced over at Leia, and she shot him another reassuring smile, and Luke looked back down at his hand.

Luke's arm stiffened up with the impulse to pull away when the droid pressed the attachment against his wrist; he didn’t feel it, but his left hand gripped the other armrest so tight his fingers hurt when a hatch popped open to reveal a lattice of wires and metal.

He had known, consciously, that there would have to be something like that for the prosthetic to work, but it didn't make it any less unsettling to see his wrist popped open like that.

Watching the 2-1B work on his arm felt like the first time he had to get blood drawn, eyes glued to the syringe slowly filling with red, transfixed and a little grossed out at the same time. A wire clicked into place, and his fingers clenched up, relaxing again with the next wire.

It was another two wires and a screw before Luke was almost sure there was some feeling in his palm.

Luke felt a shock go all the way up his arm with the last wire, and then it felt like his arm had fallen asleep, numb and tingly down to his fingertips.

“Make a fist if you are able,” the 2-1B said, lifting the attachment a few inches away.

Luke stiffly curled his fingers into a fist.

He could feel the pressure of his fingertips on his palm, but the sensation still felt off.

“How does that feel?”

Luke swallowed thickly and glanced over at Leia before looking back down at his hand. “Okay. Kind of numb.”

He had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second when the droid started tinkering with his wrist again; he could feel it this time, and it didn’t exactly  _ hurt, _ but the inside of his arm wasn't something he had ever wanted to feel.

There was another shock, down to his fingers this time, and the numbness crept away with it until he could feel the synthetic skin on his palm.

“How does that feel?” the droid repeated.

“Better.” Luke wiggled his fingers, and seeing it sent a shiver up his spine.

It was exciting, and it was strange, and that twinge of guilt came back from the thought of everyone back on Tatooine, with stumps and scrap metal when he had a new, working hand the same day he lost his own.

Suddenly that guilt started to feel a little more like anger, overshadowing the feeling that he had to leave, and he knew he should stamp it out, but he couldn't quite bring himself to want to.

The resources were there--not in abundance on Tatooine, unless you had the money for it; but if parts could be shipped in every so often, so could medical droids, and supplies, and better medicine. It didn’t need to cost as much as it did.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't  _ right. _

Luke was pulled out of his train of thought by the 2-1B poking each of his fingertips, twitching in response just like the fingers on his natural hand would.

Something about it still felt off, somehow, in a way he couldn't place, but he wasn't about to complain.

“A tech will be with you shortly,” the 2-1B said, and Luke's shoulders sagged.

“A--what?”

“A tech will be with you shortly,” the droid repeated, with the exact same inflection as the first time.

It was on its way out before Luke could ask what it had meant.

“I thought you said they just needed to hook the hand up.”

“That's what I thought.” Leia came over to the chair, looking down at the hatch still open on his wrist. “Maybe it needs more work because of the way it cauterized?”

Luke took a deep breath and tried not to think about that.

“How does it feel?”

Luke shrugged and wiggled his fingers. “Good, I guess.” He trailed the fingers of his left hand over his palm; it was almost completely smooth, and he couldn't see any fingerprints.

He couldn’t quite manage to keep down the impulse to poke the rectangle of synthetic skin propped up where the hatch was still open on his wrist.

“Oh! Ew! Oh, that’s, that's weird.” Luke shuddered, laughing uncomfortably. He slowly poked at the inside of the hatch cover, squirming in his seat. “Hey, Leia--”

“I’m not touching it.”

“Come on, it’s cool.”

Leia rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth was twitching like she was trying not to smile again. “How old are you?”

“You're just grossed out.” Luke pinched the hatch cover and tilted it to look at the outside of it, scrunching his face up in exaggerated disgust at the feeling of the synthetic skin shifting.  _ “One _ little poke.”

Leia leaned in to get a better look. “No, thanks.”

“I dare you.”

“Luke, I swear to--”

She was cut off by a few quick knocks on the doorframe, and Luke dropped his left hand in his lap.

“Skywalker?”

He nodded.

The tech was tall and gangly and a pale yellow that would make a human look ill, with facial features that made Luke think of the little sand lizards basking on the rocks back on Tatooine, sleek and scaly in the harsh lighting.

“Sounds familiar…” they mumbled, swiping through a thin holopad. “I’m just here to check that everything is working properly. Your procedure was a bit different than what we normally do.”

Luke nodded again, glancing down at his prosthetic; his wrist ached at the thought of burning flesh, those extra few inches of synthetic skin where they'd had to amputate further up because of it.

“Your nerve responses looked good so far.” They peered over at the hatch opening, tapping and swiping another couple times at the holopad. “Haven’t tested grip strength yet, or response to temperature…” They fumbled through the pocket of their lab coat, pulling out two thin, metallic cylinders about the length of his palm. “One in each hand.”

Luke kept his right arm as still as he could when he took them, the hatch tugging uncomfortably on his skin with every movement.

The tech clicked the top of the cylinders, and Luke could feel a faint buzz, dulled slightly in his right hand.

“Give those a squeeze, same pressure on both of them.”

Luke held them tight enough the knuckles on his left hand went pale; the prosthetic stayed the same.

“And relax.” They tapped another few times on the holopad, glancing up at Luke's hands. “And again, lightly this time.”

Luke let out a slow breath and did as he was told; that shaky, anxious feeling was making itself hard to ignore, and all he could think about was when he could  _ go. _

Luke focused as much as he could on his breathing, and the feeling of his heart thudding in his chest, only listening enough to follow the instructions from the tech.

He wasn't sure how long they went on testing grip strength, zapping his palm and his fingertips with something that looked like a pen, but sent shocks of heat or icy chill and asking him which was which; he could see Leia getting fidgety the longer it went on.

Luke let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding when the tech finally put everything in their pockets from poking and prodding at his hand, carefully flipping the hatch shut with a soft  _ click _ that he felt more than heard.

His whole body felt tense, ready to bolt as soon as he was allowed to leave.

“We need to keep you here for monitoring--” the tech said, swiping through the holopad again, and Luke felt his heart drop.

_ “What?” _

The tech looked startled, bead-black eyes widening for a second. “Your procedure was not our standard.”

Luke felt like his whole body was buzzing.

“How long?” Leia asked, and it would have been easy to miss the frustrated set of her jaw, a hint of a frown coming through the practiced poise.

“You have an appointment with the neurologist in...two hours, and a physical therapist after that,” the tech said, turning towards Leia. “We can gauge that better once we have heard back from them.”

Luke's jaw started to ache from the way he was clenching it.

He barely heard the tech asking if he had any questions, or Leia cutting in to say they would find someone if they did, and Leia shot him a look while the tech turned to leave.

“Thank you,” Luke said, looking off to the side; he knew it wasn't anyone's fault that he was stuck there, but that didn't do anything for the anxiety around getting out, or all the work he had ahead of him, or that stabbing haze between his eyes from the lights and the smell.

The room was silent for a minute, and then Leia and Luke looked at each other, glancing towards the door before talking over each other with, “Were we supposed to--?” “Do we stay here?”

Leia huffed and shook her head almost imperceptibly. “I’ll find a nurse.”

“Leia,” Luke said, turning towards her and leaning on the armrest that was still folded in. “Why do I have to be here for so long?”

Leia’s shoulders looked stiff, and she didn't say anything for a minute. “Do you know how far you had to fall before we found you?”

Luke's eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Leia took a deep breath and came over to the chair with another quick glance towards the door. “You almost died.”

“I know--”

“No, you don't,” she snapped, quiet and piercing. “You would probably be dead right now if your arm wasn't cauterized while it was still being cut off. You should still be dead from that fall. Maybe on that backwater…” Leia cut herself off with a sigh and pinched her fingertips to her temples for a second. “You don't get to refuse medical care that you  _ need _ just because you don't know how to wait.”

“I don't have time to wait,” Luke insisted, but it came out too weakly to pack any real punch.

He hadn’t really had it in him to think about that fall with everything else going on for his hand, or what had happened just before, and he didn't really want to.

“Well, make time,” Leia said, turning on her heel. “I’m getting a nurse.”

Luke didn't get the chance to say anything else before she was out the door.

The room was so quiet without her he could hear his heartbeat rushing in his ears, his anxiety around getting back to Dagobah tinged with unsettled guilt.

Luke took a slow breath and brought his right hand close to his face, tracing around the line on his wrist. He held both hands up next to each other, comparing his left to the smooth, lineless palm of his right, the back of his hand poreless and hairless like a doll’s, sending a shudder up his spine.

He’d heard a term for that before, a long time ago, for something that looks so close to  _ right _ that it’s even more disconcerting than something entirely inhuman. There had been talk around Tosche once, overheard in snippets in the few moments of spare time he had, of droids that looked like people but not quite, their skin and their movements and the programmed monotony of their voices the only real giveaways to the fact that they weren't organics.

He had never seen one, and looking down at his hand, he wasn't sure he would want to.

He liked droids, and there was something uncomfortable he couldn’t quite place about a need to make them indistinguishable from the people who owned them.

Luke dropped his hands to his lap at the sound of footsteps in the hall, but Leia came in alone.

“Where's the nurse?”

“Busy.” She headed towards the wheelchair, but Luke pushed himself up from the examination chair before she could get to it. “You just need to wait in one of the patient lounges.”

Luke bristled, trying to ignore the pang in his head at the thought of having to stay under all those lights. “Can't I wait outside?”

“No.”

“What about--?”

“I asked, I'm sorry,” Leia said, pushing the wheelchair out of the way by the door. “You have to be discharged first.”

Luke rubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes. “This is…”

“You have a concussion,” Leia cut in. “They had to set five breaks in three different bones while you were under. I don't think you'd get much out of training with a bruised brain and pins holding you together.”

Luke stopped. There hadn't been any casts. “How?”

“This isn't Tatooine,” Leia said simply.

Luke was in a daze while he followed Leia through the hallways, passing directional signs that flashed between Basic and alphabets he didn't always recognize. He hadn’t realized the place was so  _ big _ until that heavy, tired feeling still lingering from the anesthesia made him almost wish he’d used the wheelchair, each step a little harder to take than the last.

Leia slowed down, but she didn't say anything, and Luke was at least thankful for that.

Of course she was right about not being able to leave yet.

They stopped at a doorway just like all the others they’d passed on the way, and Leia didn't wait for the sign to flash back to Basic before she pressed the switch for the door to slide open.

The glaring fluorescent lights weren't any better in the large, sparsely furnished room, frayed old chairs lining the walls with pamphlet displays every few feet. The room was mostly empty, just a handful of organics and a family member or two sitting in clusters, actively ignoring each other, for the most part, and Luke was starting to wish he had just stayed in that last room.

Leia led him over to a couple chairs in an empty corner, nudging him to sit down; she stayed standing, wringing her hands behind her back like he wouldn't notice and glancing at the door.

“What is it?” Luke asked.

“What?”

Luke frowned. “You look…”

Leia dropped her hands at her sides and let out a slow breath. “It's nothing.”

“Leia,” Luke pressed, but she didn't say anything, and Luke lightly kicked at her  ankle. “Hey--”

Leia huffed and dropped down to the seat next to him. “I don't want to have to leave you here, but.”

Luke felt deflated. “If you have to go…”

“I’ll get Lando.” Leia whipped a tiny holopad from her pocket and began typing so fast he could barely see her fingers. “I don't have to  _ leave, _ just. I have to make a call. From the Falcon. I’ll be back.”

Luke chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Okay.”

Leia slipped the holopad back into her pocket, rubbing reassuringly at Luke's arm before standing up again. “He’s on his way. He knows the room number.”

She only made it halfway to the door before turning to face him again. “You know the channel code for the Falcon if you need--?”

“I know it, it’s fine.”

Leia nodded to herself, and walked out as fast as she could without breaking into a run.

Luke looked down at his hands in his lap, gritting his teeth against the ache behind his eyes from the lights. He was pretty sure he could hear them buzzing.

Every second felt like it was dragging on even longer than before, but his anxious rush to get back to Dagobah was replaced with a heavy, lonely helplessness.

On Hoth, at least, the medbay hadn’t been so crushingly  _ huge _ and impersonal, and most of the time he’d spent there conscious was with someone else, someone he knew, and Han…

He couldn’t breathe for a couple seconds around the tightness in his chest.

Luke bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper, but his heart pounding against his ribcage refused to slow down, that tight feeling in his chest making it impossible to keep from hyperventilating. His whole body felt like it was shaking apart, and he dropped his head in his hands, curling in on himself and squeezing the heels of his palms over his ears to try to block out the buzzing from the lights.

He was starting to feel dizzy when he heard footsteps heading towards him, muffled through his hands over his ears, and he wished he could just disappear--

“Hey, Luke.”

He froze up for a second, stiffly sitting up again, and he had to wedge his hands under his thighs to keep them from shaking.

His vision was a little fuzzy, haloes around all the lights, but it still didn't put a damper on the relief of seeing a familiar face, even if he'd only seen it once.

“Hey,” he said quietly, squinting against the lights.

“Leia filled me in.” Lando sat down in the chair next to him, crossing one leg over the other to lean in a little closer. “You aren't looking too good.”

Luke shrugged and looked away, pulling his hand free to rub at his forehead. He flinched and dropped it back to his lap at the feeling of too-smooth synthetic against his skin.

Lando was quiet for a minute, but Luke could still feel him looking.

“You want to go somewhere else?”

“Yes,” Luke said a little too quickly, frowning to himself at the desperation in his voice. “But Leia said--”

“You hold tight,” Lando said, reaching towards Luke's arm, but he pulled his hand back and stood up. “I’ll be right back.” He must have seen the expression on Luke's face, however hard he tried to hide it, because he added, “There’s a help desk two doors over. Don't go anywhere.”

“I don't even know where anywhere  _ is, _ in here.”

Lando shot him a smile on his way out, and the tightness in Luke's chest felt a little less suffocating.

He looked around the room, glancing between the small groups of patients and families, and Luke suddenly felt very small.

Luke's legs started to bounce after the first minute or two, the anxiety creeping back in not long after, and Luke was about to get up to look for that help desk when Lando came rushing back in.

“Found you somewhere quiet,” he said, holding a hand out to help Luke up.

Luke reached out with his left. “I have an appointment later, won’t they--?”

“They know where to find you, don't worry about that.” Lando gave his hand a quick squeeze once he was standing before letting go and nodding towards the door. “Looks like you've got enough.”

Lando lead him down the hall, pausing at the end where it split into two before heading to the right.

“There's an empty exam room you can crash in until that appointment,” Lando said, slowing down to look at the room numbers. “And here we go.”

Lando propped the door open and waved him inside, and Luke felt like a vice had been loosened from his head when Lando hit a switch by the door to turn the lights off.

“Thank you,” Luke said, sitting on the edge of the lowered-flat examination chair. “Really--”

“Don’t mention it.” Lando waved him off with another one of those bright smiles. “Last thing you need is a couple hours in a glorified waiting room.”

Luke couldn’t help smiling back at him. “How did you get us in here? Leia…”

“Oh.” Lando shook his head to himself and pulled out a small holopad like Leia's. “Let me just…” He looked back up at Luke and shrugged. “Luck and a little charm?”

Luke huffed a laugh and rubbed at the slowly fading ache in his forehead. 

Lando pocketed the holopad and walked back to the door, closing it enough that just a streak of light from the hallway made it in. “You’ve just got to know how to ask.”

Luke nodded and looked down at his hands. He couldn't figure out a middle ground between being grateful and feeling helplessly burdensome.

He thought of Leia, and that call she had to make, and everything else she must have going on after Cloud City, and he barely knew Lando at all--

“You don't have to stay here,” Luke found himself saying before he could really think it. “Sure you’ve to better things to do than babysit me for Leia.”

Luke almost missed the slight tilt of his head, his face just hinting at a frown.

“I wouldn't call it babysitting.” Lando came over and gestured towards a spot next to Luke, waiting for him to nod before sitting down. “You should have someone here.” He paused, and then he bumped his shoulder against Luke’s, and Luke could hear the smile in his voice when he added, “And I think you seem like more fun than a baby.”

Luke laughed, and he had to hold back the impulse to lean against Lando’s side, just a little, just for some touch that didn't hurt. “Probably not now.”

“I’d say that’s reasonable,” Lando said, with such certainty Luke could almost believe it. “Leia’s told me a lot.”

Luke took a deep, slow breath and rubbed his thumb over his right palm like a worry stone. “What’s a lot?”

“Ah. Okay.” Lando put his hands out behind him on the exam table to lean back a bit. “She told me about the Death Star, and Hoth. And Alderaan. Quite a rescue you put together, there.”

Luke let out a puff of breath that was somewhere close to a laugh. That felt so long ago.

“She told me why you were on Dagobah, too.”

Luke swallowed thickly around the pit in his throat and nodded.

Lando was quiet for a minute, and then, “What made you decide to leave?”

Luke took a deep breath to try to shake off the ache that brought to his chest. “I don't know how to explain.”

“Try me.”

Luke finally looked up from his hands; Lando was looking at him almost expectantly, his expression open and warm.

“I saw what was going to happen.” Luke laced his fingers together and squeezed until the knuckles of his left hand felt sore. “What  _ could _ have happened. I couldn't just stay there.” He paused, squeezing his hands harder together to keep them from shaking. “It was so  _ clear.” _

He could practically feel Lando’s hesitation in the air between them before he reached out to put a hand on Luke’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Luke wasn't sure why that more than anything else opened the floodgates, but suddenly he couldn't stop. “I saw them die, it was like, it was like I was  _ right there, _ and I couldn't do anything, and then I still couldn't--”

“Luke,” Lando said insistently, gently prying Luke’s hands apart to hold Luke’s left tight between both of his. “You did what you could, and you did good. Leia’s fine.”

Luke tried not to think about the empty, heavy space where  _ and Han _ should have been, but it didn't feel like he was the only one who was unsuccessful.

“We’re going to fix this.”

Luke wanted, desperately, more than anything, to be able to believe that was the case, but all he could feel when he tried to look forward was a melancholy uncertainty.

Thinking of Han felt like shouting into a cave with no echo.

“You know Han,” Luke said, determined in the present tense. “That's why they were there.”

He would have missed the way Lando's shoulders went stiff, his expression falling flat, if he hadn't already been looking carefully.

“I don't know what you know about that, but I  _ promise _ you--”

“No, I mean.” Luke frowned and shook his head. He wasn't quite sure what he was trying to say, let alone how to say it, but there was something comforting about the fact that it wasn't the blindly optimistic platitudes of a stranger. 

Lando had a stake in this, too; he’d almost forgotten the ride from Cloud City, his memories fuzzy and disjointed from the pain and the shot in his arm and what he realized now was the concussion, but he couldn't forget that heavy sadness, or that out-of-place feeling radiating from Lando in the pilot’s seat.

He remembered that, and he remembered how Lando piloted the Falcon with the love and care of someone who knew it already, and it clicked into place.

“You  _ know _ Han.”

Lando seemed confused at first, before his expression slipped to one of understanding, and he nodded. “You too, huh?”

Luke looked down at his hand in Lando’s, his face hot. “Yeah.”

“I figured.” Lando bumped his shoulder against Luke's, that hint of a smile back in his voice when he added, “Leia did tell me about Hoth.”

“Oh.”

“That’s him all over,” Lando continued. “He tries to play it slick, but he can care to a fault.”

Luke bit the inside of his cheek to try to hide the way his bottom lip twitched, and it was hard to wrench his mind away from Han crashing into him after the Death Star, the smell of the dead Taun Taun and Han’s hands shaking from more than the cold when he dragged Luke into the popup shelter, his voice cracking when he tried to joke about the stench with Luke held tight against his chest.

“What happened back there?” he asked, and he could feel Lando tense up, his hands going stiff and still.

Lando pulled his hands back to his lap, and Luke couldn't help wishing he hadn't.

Lando took a deep breath, facing Luke but still not making eye contact. “It was a trap. From the start. He…” Lando stopped, his jaw clenching; when he looked back up at Luke, he could see the same look of determined, focused anger he’d come to recognize in Leia, covered on the surface by that same practiced calm. “It was never supposed to go this way. Please believe that. Vader got there first, and it was them or the city, and he  _ said _ \--bastard--he said Han and Leia were to stay in my care.”

Luke's chest felt tight.

“I tried to get them to turn around, but Han didn't take the bait, and.” Lando looked away and shook his head. “This happened because I trusted a monster to keep his word.”

“You did what you could,” Luke said quietly, and he didn't realize he was parroting Lando’s words back to him until Lando looked back up with a flash of surprise. “No one asks to be put in a position like that.”

They were both quiet for a minute; Lando put his hand softly over Luke's, smile lines crinkling around his eyes that didn't quite fit with the rest of his expression, and it looked like he was about to say something else when the door burst open, flooding the room with more light than Luke was prepared for.

“There you are,” Leia said, before Luke's eyes had adjusted enough to see her. She sounded out of breath. “You know they have two hallways with this same room number? I almost walked in on someone's sonogram.”

Lando pulled his hand back from Luke's and motioned for her to close the door again. “That’s just bad planning.”

Leia huffed and nodded in agreement, flopping down into an empty chair against the wall. “How are you doing?”

Luke shrugged and glanced at his prosthetic. “Okay.”

Leia’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but she didn't push it. “I grabbed something for you to eat, you must be starving.”

Luke wouldn't have thought of it if she hadn't said anything; his whole body felt a little wobbly, but he had chalked it up to the anesthesia. “Not really.”

Leia frowned and stood up, digging out a packet of something and what looked like a hip flask from her pockets. “It’s just water. You need to eat something. I'm not taking a no.”

Luke begrudgingly took the flask and the packet from her, eyebrows crinkling at the label. “What is this?”

“Some nutrition bar, or something, there wasn't much on board. It was that or hospital food.”

Luke tore the packet open to nibble at the corner just enough Leia would be satisfied. The thought of eating anything made his stomach flip.

“Heard anything about the neurologist?”

Luke shrugged and Lando shook his head.

Leia’s lips pursed into a flat line, shoving her hands in her pockets. “You would think they'd be able fit you in earlier.”

“No one wants to be the first appointment,” Lando pointed out, leaning in to murmur conspiratorially, “That’s when you know you're really in a bind.”

Luke hummed and took a quick drink from the flask. “Guess I wouldn't want to be that guy,” he mumbled.

“You would not want to be that guy,” Lando agreed, looking back over at Leia. “Any news?”

Leia’s face fell, shooting a quick glance towards Luke before back to Lando. “No such luck.” She paused and glanced at the door. “I actually--I wanted to check in on you, but I still…”

“Do what you need to do,” Lando said, nudging his elbow against Luke’s side. “Plenty of fun to be had here.”

“And you're alright staying…?”

“Of course.”

Leia nodded and glanced towards the door again. “Let me know what the neuro says if I'm not back yet.”

“You'll be the first to know,” Lando said. “Go do what you have to do.”

Leia nodded again before looking back to Luke. “I don't care if you have a concussion, there will be hell to pay if you haven't eaten that by the time I get back.”

Luke couldn't help smiling at that, choking down a full bite when Leia stared pointedly at the bar.

“Let me know if they move you again,” Leia said on her way out.

Luke washed down the bar with a grimace and set the rest of it down next to him. Neither of them said anything for a minute, Luke absently picking at the torn side of the wrapper before blurting out, “What news?”

“What?”

“You asked Leia if there was any news,” Luke explained. “News on what?”

Lando let out a slow breath. Those few seconds of silence felt heavier than just before. “Han.”

“Oh.”

“They're not making it easy to track him.” Lando paused. “We could use your help.”

Luke looked at him with an expression not unlike a startled bird. “How?”

Lando’s eyebrow quirked up. “You’ve got one hell of a skill set that we just don't otherwise.  _ They _ kind of do.”

Luke’s skin crawled. “I can’t do what you think.”

“Why not?”

Luke stared at him, and Lando stared expectantly back.

“Why not?” he repeated.

Luke looked away with a slow sigh. “I need to get back to Dagobah.”

“For your training.”

Luke nodded.

Lando hummed, and then he was quiet for a minute, and then, “What would you have been able to do differently? On Cloud City.”

Luke looked back up at him, confusion plain on his face. “What do you mean?”

“With more training. What would you have been able to do differently that would have had any other outcome?”

Luke snorted and held up his right hand before dropping it back to his lap.

“Alright, fair, but you came for Leia and Han,” Lando pointed out. “If swordsmanship pointers are what you're looking for, you can get those plenty of places.”

Luke frowned and rubbed at the line circling his wrist. “Yoda said I was making a mistake.”

“Your Jedi on Dagobah.”

Luke nodded.

“Mm.” Lando was quiet for a minute, and then, “You said you saw Han and Leia die.”

Luke bit the inside of his cheek and looked away. “Yeah.”

“And he said you were making a mistake, and you needed to stay.”

“Yes,” Luke said, frustration cracking through the tone of his voice. “So--?”

“Do you think you did the right thing?”

Luke was silent.

“If it was between--if you could go back, and it was between leaving them to...fend for themselves, after seeing what you saw, or staying there, would you do it again?”

“I don't know,” Luke said quietly.

Lando nodded. “How do those visions work?”

“What?”

“How set in stone are they?”

Luke opened his mouth to answer before snapping it shut again when he realized he couldn’t find one. “I don't…”

“Far as I can tell,” Lando said, “you saw them die  _ before _ you left, and you left, and they didn't. If that was the future you saw, and you were meant to stay on Dagobah, wouldn't it make sense that you leaving still saved them?”

Luke felt like the whole world stopped for a second.

“So it wasn't a perfect outcome,” Lando continued, “it’s still a hell of a lot better than if they died.”

Luke had to remind himself to breathe.

“I don't think you made a mistake,” Lando said. “You went with your gut, and now Leia’s alive, and.” He paused, voice tight. “And we’re going to get Han back.  _ You _ did that.”

It took a minute before Luke could say anything, struggling to make sense of the whirlwind in his head--he  _ had _ changed what he saw, and however right Yoda had been about his failure with Vader, he couldn’t find the regret he felt he was supposed to have.

Leia was alive; Han still had a chance, however slim it might be; if he went back to Dagobah, when he could be helping to find Han, when he and Leia were why he left in the first place--

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

 

For two hours of waiting, Luke almost wished the neurologist had had more to say than to not look at screens for a few days, and call a medic if he had trouble with his vision or memory, and you really are lucky, with a fall like that, this could have been much worse.

Luke had to bite back a laugh at the way Lando cringed at that, silently shaking his head with his hand clapped over his mouth behind the neurologist.

_ Lucky. _

Luke had finished the bar Leia left him by the time the physical therapist came in a while later, bored halfway to sleep on the exam table. Lando was flipping through the pamphlets left in holders on the wall for the second time when Luke jerked upright at the sound of the door opening again.

“Skywalker,” he croaked, squat and toadish with dull little claws clacking on the back of his holopad. “Correct?”

Luke sat up straight and nodded.

“Your fractures fixed up nicely, all the breaks were clean…” He swiped through the holopad, nails scraping gratingly whenever he touched the screen. “How’s your leg?”

Luke looked over at Lando, but Lando just shrugged, and Luke looked back to the physical therapist. “Fine, I guess.”

“Elbow?”

“Um.” Luke hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary when he’d changed his clothes after surgery. “Fine?”

The physical therapist looked annoyed when he shot Luke a glance over the holopad. “Left elbow. They had to pin it.”

“Oh.” Luke moved his arm back and forth. “It’s okay.”

The physical therapist nodded and scrolled through the holopad again. “Results from the tech look promising, especially considering the…cauterization…” He hummed, scratching his chin. “Who did that?”

“What?”

“Who cauterized the wound?”

Luke grit his teeth, willing away the tight, achy feeling gripping his chest. “Um. No one.”

The physical therapist rolled his eyes and huffed, and Luke didn't miss the glare Lando shot at the back of his head.

“Just cauterized itself, huh?”

“Essentially, yes,” Lando cut in.

The physical therapist didn't respond; Lando shook his head to himself, going back to a pamphlet on cross-contamination during interplanetary travel.

“Then  _ how _ did this occur?” 

“It was--” Luke started, but he stopped dead, breath caught in his throat.

The moments before the fall flashed through his head, stuck on the second he lost his hand, and his--

“Lando,” Luke said, his throat tigh. “What happened to my lightsaber?”

Lando’s eyes went fractionally wider, his expression a trained sort of blank. “Let’s just deal with--”

_ “What happened?” _

Lando took a slow breath, glancing between Luke and the increasingly agitated physical therapist, pointedly tapping louder against the holopad.

“We don’t know.”

It felt like the floor had dropped out from under him.

“Luke.”

“I have to…” His hands were shaking when he pushed himself up off the exam table, but he didn't get far before Lando came to push him back down, hands firm on Luke’s shoulders. “I have to  _ go--” _

“That’s not what we need to deal with right now,” Lando said, jerking his head towards the physical therapist before leaning in to whisper, “You’ll get out of here faster if we get this done so they can discharge you, alright?”

Luke sucked in a shaky breath and forced himself to nod, but every cell in his body was telling him to  _ run.  _

The only other time he could think of feeling so crushingly helpless was hanging over an abyss with one hand, a statement ringing in his ears that he still couldn’t get his head around.

The physical therapist cleared his throat, and Lando reassuringly rubbed at Luke’s shoulder and stepped back.

“You cauterized it with a lightsaber,” the physical therapist said disbelievingly, with a muttered, “Haven't seen that in a while.”

“I didn't…” Luke started, but Lando shook his head, and he dropped it.

Luke was in a daze while the physical therapist ran him through some exercises, running the same tests the tech had earlier--what was the point of that?--with instructions on what to do and who to go to if he had any problems.

“Not that they'd for sure know what to do with you, with all that, but,” the physical therapist said with a shrug.

Luke felt at least a little better with the  _ look _ Lando shot towards the physical therapist.

He managed a  _ thank you _ on the physical therapist’s way out, still too unsettled to put much of a sentence together.

Lando waited until the PT’s footsteps went too far down the hall to be able to hear when he muttered, “What an ass.”

Luke felt too deflated to respond.

Lando came back over to sit next to Luke on the exam table. “I’m sorry we didn't tell you earlier,” he said. “You had enough to worry about in here, Leia thought it was best that we wait until you were discharged.”

Luke nodded stiffly. “Can we go now?”

“Leia’s checking at the front desk. Thought it’d be faster than waiting for the--”

Luke hopped off the exam table before Lando could finish, grabbing the flask and tossing the food wrapper in a bin by the door. “Let’s go.”

“Leia said she would tell me as soon as she knows.”

Luke shrugged and poked his head out the door, squinting a little against the lights. “We can find her there,” Luke said, trying to cover the frantic tone in his voice. “Save her the trouble.”

Lando sighed and followed Luke to the door. “They might not have discharged you yet.”

“Yeah, well, until they haven't…” Luke looked down both ends of the hallway with a frustrated huff. “Which way is it?”

Lando pointed to the left and had to speed up when Luke took off down the hall.

It felt like a maze until the hallways opened up to a wide, bright lobby that Luke didn't recognize, and he was thrown off by the noise of so many people talking and rushing around before he spotted Leia leaning over a desk set into the far wall.

Luke almost tripped over himself in his rush to get over to her, rocking anxiously on his heels a couple feet away while she talked to the secretary.

He hurried over when he saw her pull out the pocket-size holopad. “Hey--”

Leia jumped and swore under her breath. “Some warning would be nice.” She turned back to the secretary and gestured towards Luke. “Here he is.” She took a step to the side, tugging Luke over by his sleeve and pointing to a sheet of paper on the desk. “Sign there.”

“I can go?”

Leia nodded and pointed at two lines at the bottom of the page.

Luke’s signature was wobbly and uneven, and he could see the indent left in the paper from how tight he had to hold the pen.

“Don't they usually--?”

“You're not supposed to look at screens yet,” Leia reminded him, and Luke wondered when Lando had told her about that.

 

Luke couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still missing a part of himself without his lightsaber, the absence of its weight at his hip a thousand times heavier than the lightsaber itself. He couldn't help scratching at his waist a few times on the walk back to the Falcon to try to get rid of that phantom itch, every step feeling  _ off _ without the tap-tap-tap of it bouncing against his hip.

He firmly ignored the glances he saw between Leia and Lando each time he did it.

They had had to move the ship while Luke was in surgery, and it felt like his legs could barely hold him by the time Lando lowered the loading ramp.

He had to take a deep breath to will up the energy to walk up the incline, and he almost toppled over when he was pulled into a warm, bone-crushingly tight hug, his face smothered in rough fur.

“Don't suffocate him, now, we just got him back,” Lando teased on his way past Luke and Chewie, but Chewie just grumbled and ruffled Luke’s hair.

Luke had to squeeze his eyes shut against the way they started to sting, looping his arms around Chewie’s back, his hands barely reaching together. He didn't let go until he could hear Leia and Lando’s footsteps disappear into the cockpit, and Chewie gave him another squeeze that nearly knocked the breath out of him before letting go completely.

Luke looked away and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand; Chewie waited for him to start down the hall before following.

He had been able to feel it before--that feeling that all of them were out of place somehow, Lando’s hesitance before settling into the pilot’s seat--but he had felt it through an explosive pain in his arm and a ringing in his ears and a concussion; the clarity of it then, without much else to bring his attention away from it, made him feel sick.

He wound his arms tight around his torso in the seat behind Lando, staring insistently at the back of his chair to avoid looking at anything else. He couldn't stop thinking about Han there, the way his hands flew over the dashboard like it was as natural as breathing, that time that felt so long ago--

Luke forced himself to stop.

He looked up at Leia, eyes narrowing a little when he realized she was already looking at him. “What do we do now?”

Leia took a deep breath and looked over at the dashboard. “We regroup.”

The silence felt thick enough to touch.

The only sound for a minute was the whirring of the engines starting up, switches and levers being pushed before Luke said, “I need a lightsaber.”

“What we  _ need _ is to lay low right now,” Leia said. “We shouldn't have even used your real name back there. How would you even--?”

“I have to make it.”

Leia turned to face him, gripping the armrest when the ship lurched on a bumpy takeoff. “And you know how?”

Luke nodded. He knew the mechanics, at least, from those hours of disassembling and reassembling his own on Dagobah until he could almost do it in his sleep. He needed to know his lightsaber as well as he knew himself, Yoda had said; it would be irresponsible not to, to rely on a piece of equipment he didn't fully understand.

It had been tedious and annoying, his hands tired and chapped from endlessly picking apart metal and crystal, but he understood now what Yoda had meant about upkeep and repairs being just as important as swordsmanship.

The absence of its weight against his hip suddenly felt even heavier than before.

“That’s going to have to wait,” Leia said. “They'll be expecting you to look for it.”

The thought made Luke’s skin crawl. “Leia, I  _ need--” _

Leia opened her mouth to say something, but Lando beat her to it.

“What you need right now,” he said, flipping one last switch before turning around to face Luke, “is to get good with a blaster. And maybe some sleep.”

Luke’s shoulders slumped, slouching against the back of the chair. He knew, consciously, that both of them were right, but he didn’t want them to be. “I’m not tired.”

“You do kind of look like shit,” Leia pointed out. “When was the last time you got some rest?”

“When did I get out of surgery?”

Leia rolled her eyes and faced forward again. “General anesthesia isn't sleep.”

However much Luke didn't want that to be true--there was something so uncomfortable about the thought of being alone, not knowing what was going on with the three of them--he couldn’t ignore the bone-deep exhaustion weighing him down, his eyelids feeling heavier with all the lights on the dashboard contrasting with the dimness of the rest of the room.

“Let’s go,” Leia said as she stood up, holding a hand out for Luke. “Being so exhausted never helped anyone.”

Luke reluctantly took her hand to pull him up, but Chewie growled at them to wait, standing up and motioning for Leia to sit.

Chewie led him down the hall to Han’s bunk; his chest felt tight at the familiarity of it, unsettling without that one missing piece. Luke thought of the strangeness of a hand that looked so natural but wasn't, and the strangeness of those droids made to look human that never quite hit the mark, and how it was almost the same not-quite-right feeling as walking through the Millennium Falcon without Han anywhere onboard.

Chewie stopped him before they made it to Han's bunk, hitting an inconspicuous panel on the wall that popped open to reveal piles of yarn and knitwear and needles thicker than Luke's fingers, crammed in so tight it looked like it could come tumbling out any second.

“Is that all yours?”

Chewie nodded, digging around the hidden compartment until he found what he was looking for. Luke’s arms were full with balls of yarn the size of his head by the time Chewie got to it, handed off to him to keep the rest of the precariously packed in yarn from all falling out.

Chewie tossed a huge, heavy looking blanket over his shoulder before taking the yarn back from Luke to put back in the compartment; Luke was still surprised by the weight of it when Chewie handed it over to him, densely-knit and thick.

Luke hugged it close to his chest, squishing the soft knots between his fingers.

“Thank you.”

Chewie nodded and pushed the hatch shut, ruffling Luke’s hair before leading him the rest of the way down the hall.

Luke froze up when they got to the opened door to Han’s bunk.

The bed wasn't made, sheets kicked to the bottom, and the fact that it looked like Han could come back any second--that it looked like he left thinking he would--made Luke’s chest ache.

Chewie gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, and Luke had to take a deep breath before he could will himself to take a step inside.

The air in the room felt uncomfortably heavy, but the thought of trying to go somewhere else seemed even worse, the memory of the last time he left Han for Dagobah rushing over him like a riptide.

Luke was gripping the blanket so tight the knuckles of his left hand went pale.

He forced himself to step forward, hesitating by the side of the bed before stiffly sitting down. He held the blanket close to his face, covering his nose until the musty smell of it covered the way the room still smelled like Han.

Luke hadn't really considered him having a smell before.

Chewie shifted his weight from one leg to the other before growling, quiet and questioning.

Luke opened his mouth to say yes--he wasn't really used to giving any other answer, when asked--but it felt like a lie, and it dawned on him it would be.

He looked away and shrugged, and then he shook his head, biting his lip against the way it wanted to quiver.

Chewie sat down next to him on the bed, pulling Luke tight against his side in another crushing hug. Luke didn't mind that he couldn't get a full breath until Chewie let go.

He stayed there for a minute, and Luke was thankful for the silent, warm presence at his side, no more questions or expectations like he had any idea what he was doing.

Chewie patted his shoulder roughly enough to jostle him before standing up; it looked like he was going to say something, but his shoulders lifted with a deep breath, and he gave Luke a quick nod, and then Luke was alone.

Luke felt frozen in place, taking in the room that felt so familiar but still so foreign without its owner. He forgot to breathe for a few seconds, pulling in a sharp inhale when his head started to feel fuzzy, and he had to close his eyes against the smell of the room no longer covered by the blanket.

It wasn't just Han, he realized, but the air and the Falcon and the dust Han never got around to cleaning up, long-lingering smoke tinting the walls, but that didn't make it any easier.

He stiffly lay down and pulled the sheet up to his chest, tossing the thick blanket over himself and cocooning himself in as tightly as he could. The bed smelled like Han--just Han this time, his soap and his hair and that smell he could only categorize as warm--and he didn't realize he was crying until his face felt wet.


	2. Chapter 2

Luke insisted he knew how to shoot; he’d done alright before his lightsaber, picking off womprats like tin cans, the Death Star, he reminded Lando.

There was no doubt about that, Lando had said, but there was always room for improvement, and he  _ had _ been relying on a lightsaber for a good while now, and Luke could hardly argue with that.

Lando took him out one morning, the grass still dewy enough to leave Luke’s shoes wet by the time they made it to a clearing a few minutes’ walk from their temporary base.

Lando had brought a satchel with him that clinked while he walked, and he motioned for Luke to wait while he went to the other end of the clearing, far enough that Luke could only just make out the line of cans and chipped bottles he lined up along a log before laying out another few on some rocks nearby.

“Is this really necessary?” Luke half-shouted to him. “They're not even moving.”

Lando waved him off and took a step back to look at the layout before coming back over.

“It's a fool who ignores the basics for the flash,” he said, unclipping his blaster from the holster at his hip. “And the practice bot broke. Here.”

Luke bit back a frown, his hand dipping when he took the blaster from Lando, not quite expecting the weight of it. It really had been a while.

“Safety?”

Lando shrugged. “You tell me.”

Luke turned the blaster over in his hands, looking over the grip until he found what he was looking for. He flipped the small, inconspicuous switch down; he could feel, when he held it in his left hand, the faint buzz running through it, but it just made his right hand tingle.

Lando nodded and stepped behind Luke. “First one on the left, whenever you're ready.”

Luke breathed in slow and deep and took the shot before he could think too much, the kickback punching the air out of him and sending a shock up to his wrist that he'd never felt before.

The bottle shattered, and Luke couldn't help grinning when he moved the blaster to his left hand to shake the tingly feeling out of his right.

“Not bad,” Lando praised. “Is your hand alright?”

Luke nodded, clenching and unclenching his fist. “Just a shock.”

Lando's  _ hm _ sounded like a frown. “Tell me if it gets worse.”

Luke nodded again and took the blaster back in his right hand, lifting his arm to aim again before Lando cut him off.

“Hold on, now.” Lando came up close behind him, nudging Luke's feet further apart; Luke’s breath hitched when Lando's hands came up to his shoulders to shift him a bit. “Your stance is too unsteady.”

Lando pulled at his shoulders until he was standing straight as a rod, his torso at a slight angle facing the line of cans and bottles. Lando bumped his foot against Luke’s one more time before giving his shoulders a quick squeeze.

“That’s better.”

Luke swallowed thickly and raised his arm again, Lando's hands firm on his shoulders keeping them from shifting as he aimed.

Lando was silent, and Luke took that as his cue to take the next shot.

The next can over was only about half the size of the first bottle, and Luke had to squint, pulling in a deep breath to try to steady his hand before pulling the trigger.

The can flew off the log and hit a tree a little ways back, but Luke’s attention was pulled away by another shock up his wrist, tingling uncomfortably about halfway up his forearm.

He steadied his hand again as soon as the initial shock wore off, leaving his hand tingling like it was asleep.

“Good,” Lando said, nudging Luke’s right shoulder a little lower. “All the rest on the log, now. Leave the other ones.”

Luke nodded and took another deep breath.

It was only a couple seconds that he would have to ignore that feeling in his hand, he told himself, if he did it right. There were only five left.

He exhaled slowly and took the five shots.

_ “Ah--” _ Luke’s arm dropped to his side, a burning numbness spreading up his hand, ending unnervingly smoothly at the line where his prosthetic attached.

It felt like his hand had locked around the blaster, his fingers stiff and unmoving. His whole arm spammed from the buzz in his hand, like when he and some other kids back on Tatooine would see who could hold onto some weak electric fences the longest, but he couldn't  _ let go. _

“Lando,” he said shakily, squeezing tight at his wrist with his left hand. “I can’t--”

Lando twisted Luke around to face him, his hands firm on Luke’s shoulders. “Can you give me the blaster?”

“I  _ can’t.” _

Lando looked up at him, and Luke could see in his eyes the moment he realized what Luke meant.

“Alright,” he murmured, mostly to himself, looking around the clearing before pulling Luke over to a boulder and pushing him to sit.

Lando crouched down in front of him, carefully reaching for Luke’s right hand to pull a little closer and switch the blaster’s safety back on. The electric feeling had died down a little, still leaving his arm tingling and numb like someone had been lying on it for hours.

Lando held Luke's wrist in both hands, leaning in close to get a better look, tracing his fingertips over the line where skin met synthetic.

“You know,” Lando said, “they’ve started modeling the insides of these after the way a natural hand would work. Nature is the best technology, all that.”

Luke nodded, too distracted by the feeling in his arm to really listen, but Lando's tone was comfortingly conversational and smooth, like he was talking about a new part for the Falcon or what he'd had for breakfast that morning.

“Which is good for me,” Lando continued, rubbing his thumbs over what felt like tendons on Luke's wrist, close to his palm, “because prosthetic mechanics are not my specialty.”

Luke’s fingers twitched as Lando pressed along mechanical tendons, still too stiff to let go of the blaster, but Luke wasn't looking at his hand.

He could see Lando's focus plain on his face, the way his eyes narrowed just slightly and that crease between his eyebrows, almost the same determined expression Han would get when he was having trouble with some tricky repairs.

He couldn't quite tell why his heart started to pound against his ribcage.

Lando leaned his arm against Luke's thigh to keep his hands steady, rubbing his thumb almost roughly across Luke's wrist. He moved his other hand to Luke's fingers, still clenched tight around the blaster, his fingertips hovering over Luke's so he could feel when they twitched.

Lando absently bit his lip, and it took another couple minutes of rubbing at Luke's wrist before he managed to pry Luke's fingers away from the blaster.

He didn't let go of Luke's wrist just yet, carefully setting the blaster down next to him before looking back to Luke's hand.

His fingers were still stiff, awkwardly stuck in the same position as if he was still holding the blaster; Lando let out a frustrated huff before getting up to sit next to Luke.

“Has this happened before?” he asked, pulling Luke's hand to his lap so he could lean in and get a better look while he continued rubbing his thumbs over Luke's wrist.

Luke shook his head and shifted to face Lando.

“Hm.” Lando cradled Luke's wrist in one hand, pressing his fingers from the line circling Luke's forearm down to his palm.

Lando focused his efforts on the tendon closest to the outer part of Luke's wrist, and Luke's pinky and ring finger slowly relaxed enough for him to move them on his own, even if only a little. The tingly feeling still hadn't gone.

“Getting there,” Lando mumbled, pressing his thumb closer to the center of Luke's wrist.

He could feel his middle and pointer fingers twitch, and then his thumb when Lando pressed closer to that side of his hand, until they slowly loosened up like the first two.

“How do you know what to do?”

Lando glanced up at him, looking almost surprised before shooting Luke a smile and looking back down to his hand.

“You've got three major nerves that control your fingers,” he explained, touching his fingertips to Luke's pinky and ring finger, and then his middle and pointer fingers, and then his thumb, “one for those two, one for  _ those _ two, and one for your thumb.”

Luke nodded and sucked in a deep breath.

“Things you learn with carpal tunnel,” Lando added with a shrug. “But.” He rubbed his thumb in tight circles over Luke's palm. “There aren't any muscles in your fingers. It's all in here. If you've got a problem with your fingers, you've probably got a problem with your hand.”

The worst of the numbness slowly ebbed away the longer Lando rubbed over his palm, and Luke found himself wishing he could feel it more, every touch to his skin feeling distant and not quite right.

“Any better?”

It took Luke a second to respond, lulled by the quiet and the steady background of chirping bugs and Lando's fingers rubbing along his palm.

“Oh. Yeah.” Luke nodded, but he didn't pull his hand back, and Lando didn't either. “A bit.”

“We might have to find you a new blaster,” Lando said. He wasn't looking at Luke's hand anymore, catching him in eye contact he couldn't make himself look away from, still rubbing over his palm. Luke hadn't realized before how close they were.  “Or at least a different grip. I didn't think this would be conductive enough to--” Lando paused, and Luke didn't miss the way his eyes darted down for a fraction of a second, “...to affect your prosthetic.”

Luke was suddenly caught between feeling frozen in place and the impulse to  _ do something, _ though he wouldn't let himself acknowledge what it was he felt like he needed to do.

It still felt like he needed to do it.

Lando hadn't let go of his hand, his fingers going still on Luke's palm; each silent second felt like it dragged on longer than it should have.

They were so close they barely had to lean in before their lips were almost touching, hesitation almost palpable in the small space between them, but there was no impulse to pull away and forget the moment had happened.

It was delightfully uneventful when Luke finally leaned in to close the gap; Lando's lips were soft, and the bugs kept chirping in the trees, and that was that.

The world didn't come crashing down, there was no rush of adrenaline pushing him into action, no voice in his head telling him to  _ stop _ and leave and close himself off and explain it away as a mistake. It just felt calm.

Luke only broke the kiss for a second to catch his breath, his nose bumping against Lando's when he leaned in again for another. It stayed slow and soft until Lando pulled away with a small sound like he didn’t really want to, leaning in for another quick peck before clearing his throat and smoothing his palm over Luke's.

“You should get that looked at,” he said, low and quiet. He still didn't let go of Luke's hand. “Is it feeling alright, now?”

Luke had to force his eyes away from Lando's face before he could put the words together to respond. “Not as bad as before.”

Lando hummed and traced his fingertips over the faint creases on Luke's palm, entirely smooth aside from those three lines.

“It might be too dangerous going off-planet for it,” Lando said, lacing his fingers with Luke's; if he had wished before that he could feel the skin of his palm better, it was nothing on right then. “Leia--”

Luke leaned in to kiss him again before he could think too much about it, shifting closer so their knees bumped together. “I know. It's fine.”

Lando nodded; Luke could just barely feel the way Lando gave his hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll see about finding you that new grip.”

They were both quiet for a minute, still not pulling back from each other; Luke could feel Lando's breath against his chin in a surprised huff when he asked, “What if I tried with my left hand?”

Lando shook his head disbelievingly, but he was smiling when he leaned in for another kiss. “You don't quit, do you?”

Luke kissed him again to cover for the heat he could feel creeping up his cheeks. “It couldn't hurt to try.”

Lando hummed and flattened his palm over Luke's, tracing his fingertips over his wrist. “Ambidextrous?”

“No.”

Lando laughed and pushed himself up off the boulder, pulling Luke along with him. He only let go of his hand to pick up the blaster.

“That’s not gonna stop you, hm?”

“Nope.” Luke held his left hand out for the blaster, but Lando didn't give it back until he’d led Luke back to where they'd been standing before.

It felt awkward in his left hand, too heavy and almost uneven, but Luke wasn’t about to say anything in case Lando decided he should stop.

“Stance?”

Luke nodded to himself, looking down at his feet to try to copy the position Lando had molded him to before.

“Almost.” Lando came up behind him, close enough Luke could feel him through his shirt, warm and sturdy against his back. “Don't forget those shoulders.”

Luke had to suppress a shiver when Lando's hands came up to nudge him into the right position, knocking his feet a little further apart.

Lando's hand held his shoulder in place when he lifted his arm to aim, stiffly reaching up with his other hand when he remembered the safety. His right hand still didn't want to cooperate.

“Now just--”

Luke took the shot before Lando could finish, bumping back against him from the kickback. The can he had been aiming for stayed firmly where it was, a scorch mark in a tree behind it the only way to tell how off the mark he was.

Luke huffed and dropped his arm back at his side.

“Don't rush,” Lando said, rubbing his hands over Luke's shoulders. “You've got plenty of time.”

Luke frowned and lifted his arm to aim again, clenching around the grip to try to keep his hand steady.

“Relax your hand a bit, there. Steady with your arm.”

Luke nodded and took a deep breath, focusing on keeping his arm still until his hand steadied with it.

“Don't hold it too long, or your arm’s going to tire out.”

The can pinged off into the tall grass, the force of the kickback jolting him out of position, and Lando's hands flew down to his waist to keep him steady.

“Good.” Luke shivered at the feeling of Lando's lips moving over his neck when he said it, pointing to two of the bottles he’d set off to the side. “Those ones, now.”

Luke nodded and shifted his feet back into position, raising his arm towards the first one.

“Shoulders.”

Luke huffed and straightened his shoulders again; the first bottle hit with a satisfying shatter, but the second only wobbled before rolling off of the rock on its own.

“Almost,” Lando said. “Try the next two.”

Luke breathed in slow and deep, shifting his hand a little to the right until the blaster was pointing at the next can, glancing over at the one beside it.

He closed his eyes and held his breath.

The first can ricocheted off of its rock and hit a couple trees before disappearing into the grass, the next one shot so dead center Luke could see shards of it lying around the rock it had been placed on when he opened his eyes again.

“Hey.” Lando swatted lightly at his hip. “That’s cheating.”

“How?”

“No Force tricks.”

Luke rolled his eyes and turned to face him, and he almost forgot what he was about to say when Lando kissed him before he'd even turned fully around.

“It did work, though.”


	3. Chapter 3

Luke had the hatch on his wrist open, arm lax on the table, mechanical fingers twitching with each wire he tested. The feeling still wasn't quite back yet.

The only medics on base were trained in organics, with little if any of their medical education focusing on prosthetics or robotics. He would have to go back to a specialist for that, they said, and that meant going off-planet, and the resulting risk of exposure, and that meant Luke had to do it himself.

From what he'd seen back at the hospital, his arm outstretched for the 2-1B and the tech, it wasn't too unlike the mechanics for a droid. He recognized most of the parts that made up the inside of his prosthetic, a few unfamiliar wires and oddly placed screws leaving Luke with his other hand hovering above his wrist, unsure of his next move.

He frowned and spun the small screwdriver between his fingers, wiggling the fingers of his prosthetic. He could move them more than he had been able to back at the clearing with Lando, but there was still a delay, each finger moving a second or so after he told it to.

Luke groaned through grit teeth and let the screwdriver clatter to the table, rubbing the heel of his palm over his forehead. It felt like he had been at it for ages, his natural hand cramping and his fingers stiff from gripping the screwdriver. He had half a mind to give up and make do until he could find someone who knew what they were doing when there was a knock at the door.

“Yeah.”

The door slid open and shut again behind Leia before she made her way to the table, peering over Luke's shoulder at the inside of his wrist.

“Any progress?”

Luke shrugged and poked at the inside of the open hatch. “Kind of.”

“Hm.” Leia paused. “Did you try turning it off and on again?”

Luke sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.”

“Try it.”

“I really don't think--”

“Just try it,” Leia said insistently. “It could be static buildup, or something.”

Luke frowned and leaned in to look closer at the maze of wires and chips. “How?”

Leia came over to his right side, gingerly tilting Luke's arm so she could see better. “There's that button there--no, the little red one, on the side--have you tried that?”

“Not yet…” Luke picked up the screwdriver and tapped at the button, not quite pressing down yet. “You think?”

Leia nodded. “Give it a shot.”

Luke pressed down with the screwdriver.

Nothing happened.

“Hold it down,” Leia suggested.

His hand went unnervingly numb when he held the button down, like the hand wasn't there at all, and he didn't feel even a hint of pressure when he prodded at his palm.

“I didn't even know you could do that,” he said, reaching to hold the button down again, but Leia cut him off before he could get to it. 

“Give it a second.”

Luke leaned his chin on his hand, absently tapping the end of the screwdriver against his cheek. “How much longer?”

“That should do it.”

Luke held the button down with the end of the screwdriver, jerking his hand back when he felt a shock at the line where his arm connected to the prosthetic. It was like the feeling came back in pieces, his whole hand tingling with a strange sort of ache up to his wrist like a pinched nerve before slowly easing up, eventually leaving the sensation in the prosthetic as normal as it had ever been.

Luke curled his fingers one by one, poking the screwdriver along his fingertips.

“That is  _ weird.” _

“Do you think it worked?”

Luke nodded and held his hand up in a wave, wiggling his fingers at her now that they were finally doing what they were told; he winced at the way the hatch on his wrist tugged at the synthetic skin when he moved his arm. “Seems like it.”

Leia turned to face him, leaning back against the edge of the table, and Luke was about to snap the hatch shut when she asked, “So how was shooting with Lando?”

Luke's hand froze above his wrist for a second.

“Other than that,” she added, gesturing towards his hand.

Luke hesitated, slowly closing the hatch. He could practically feel Leia staring. “It was fine.”

“Mm _ hm.” _

Luke poked at the center of his palm with the end of the screwdriver. “He said we might be able to find a new grip, so this wouldn't happen again.”

“I’ll start asking around.” Leia pushed herself away from the edge of the table and started towards the door before turning around again. “We’re putting dinner together, if you want anything.”

“I’ll be there in a few.”

Luke glanced behind him when he heard the door open and shut again behind Leia, slouching back in his chair once the room fell silent.

He traced over the creases on his palm, frowning to himself at the way it still felt distant and off in a way he couldn't quite place. It didn't feel any worse than it had before that shooting practice, but it didn't have the same sensitivity as his left hand, either.

He knew Leia and Lando were right, that hunting down the materials for a new lightsaber would put a bigger target on his back--and all of their backs--than going back to the hospital ever would have, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this only proved how much he needed to do it.

They might not be able to find a new grip for the blaster.

A new grip might not help.

It could happen again, he thought, and however bad that could be for him, the thought of anyone else getting hurt trying to help him out of that was immeasurably worse.

He needed to get the materials.

  
  


Luke sketched out the inside of his lightsaber, his hand almost as smudged as the paper by the time it was finished; the lines were still shaky, his handwriting wobbly and uneven where he labeled each of the parts, scribbling in the margins where he might find them.

It had been easier remembering what was what when he had it in front of him.

Luke tapped the pencil over each note, and then he did it again, and he nodded to himself and folded the paper into his pocket.

He had stashed away packets of snacks and a handful of dehydrated meals from the Falcon over the last few days, careful not to draw too much attention to how much food he was bringing back to his room. Leia and Lando would try to stop him--or worse, they would try to go with him--but he had to go, and he had to go alone.

He fastened up his jacket and slung his backpack full of food and spare clothes and the blaster Lando had lent him over one shoulder, looking over his room one last time before making his way to the door. He winced at how loud it seemed when it slid open, holding his breath while he poked his head out the door, but there was no one in the hallway, and he didn't hear any footsteps coming his way.

Luke tiptoed down the hall, cautiously reaching out around him for anyone else awake or heading towards him; he made it to the hangar without being stopped, letting out a relieved sigh at the sight of the rows of ships and starfighters, alone in the room aside from him.

He felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of taking one, on the off chance it was needed while he was gone, but there was no way he could take the Falcon, he reminded himself, and this was his only way off-planet.

Luke let out a slow breath and looked over the rows of ships, gnawing anxiously at the inside of his cheek when he realized he hadn't considered what ship he would be taking; they needed starfighters, and they  _ had _ starfighters, but not much else that wouldn't be so conspicuous for actual travel.

“Shit,” he muttered, adjusting the backpack where it had started to slip down his shoulder.

The prickly feeling at the back of his neck like he was being watched snapped him to attention, freezing up and reaching out around him to find who was there; the sound of footsteps he'd come to recognize as Lando's beat him to it.

“And where are you off to?”

Luke let out a slow breath and turned around to face him. “I don't know yet.”

“Doesn't sound like you've got much of a plan, there.”

“I’ve got enough.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute.

Luke finally broke eye contact for a second to glance down; Lando was wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing earlier, despite it being late enough that almost everyone else was asleep.

He’d been waiting up.

“How did you know?”

Lando shrugged and stepped a little closer, looking up at the starfighters behind Luke. “Chewie saw you, taking that gross dehydrated stuff from the Falcon yesterday. No one’s eating that unless they have to.”

Luke grit his teeth.

“You're not going to get very far in something as obvious as these,” Lando said, gesturing towards the starfighters. “This is a fool’s errand, Luke.”

He had to consciously tell himself to unclench his jaw. “I have to go.”

“You really don't.”

“Lando--”

“We got a lead on a new grip for that blaster,” he interrupted. “No reason you have to run off and get yourself killed.”

“I can’t--” Luke cut himself off, looking behind him at the starfighters. If he just got to where he could find another ship… “Fine.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine?”

“I won’t go.”

Lando snorted. “So you can go back to your room for a while and then leave again when you think no one will notice?”

Luke’s shoulders slumped.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.”

Luke let the backpack slip down his arm, setting it down by his feet. “I need a lightsaber.”

“You need to not get shot down before you can even start,” Lando said. “Someone will see you, and word will get around, and even if you don't get blown out of the sky, you'll get captured as soon as you land. Wherever that is.”

Luke bit his lip and looked away.

“How are you expecting this to go? With no backup?”

“I need to do this alone.”

“You don't need to do this at all.”

“I  _ do--” _

“You don't even have that new grip yet,” Lando pointed out. “I know you took the blaster.”

“I’ll use my other hand.”

“Why not wait for the grip?”

Luke didn't respond.

“You were doing just fine with a blaster--aside from, you know, that--what’s the rush for a lightsaber?”

“I wasn't doing just fine,” Luke snapped, and he regretted his tone as soon as it came out. “What if a new grip doesn't work? What if that happens again?”

“That’s what backup’s for. Which it doesn't look like you have right now.”

“That's the  _ problem.” _ Luke didn't realize his hands were clenched until the knuckles of his left hand started to ache. “What if someone gets hurt?”

Lando frowned. “And what if  _ you _ get hurt? On this daring escape of yours.”

“Then that’s my problem.”

“Oh, so, you think…” He could see the frustration cracking through Lando's expression. “You want to think this is just about you.”

Luke bristled. “That's not what I said.”

“It's exactly what you said. You think you can run off, alone, and get yourself killed, so that you don't have to worry about someone else keeping you from getting yourself killed later.”

Luke’s insides felt shaky.

“We need you.  _ Han _ needs you. What good do you think it'll do if you die because you won’t accept help?”

“I shouldn't  _ need _ help,” Luke said, his voice uneven and strained. “No one should have to risk their safety because I can’t use a blaster without...without  _ that _ happening again.”

“That's not the point.” Lando let out a slow breath and rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his palm. “If you need help so you can help us with this, it’s not even a question. You think it’s just your problem if you get hurt, or captured, but that turns into all of our problem.”

Luke had to stamp down a wave of guilt at the thought of that, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was right. Again.

“I’ll get Chewie.”

“What?”

“We’re taking the Falcon,” Lando said, turning on his heel and waving Luke over. “If you're going to run off anyway, you could do with some backup.”

Luke picked up the backpack and sped up to meet him. “But--”

“Don't be stupid about doing something stupid,” Lando said. “I get the feeling you're not going to leave it.”

“Probably not,” Luke mumbled.

“Then we’re going, too.”

The Falcon was parked in the far corner, out of the way of the starfighters, but the guilt at the thought of putting anyone in danger no matter what he did was cut through with anxiety when he saw Lando glance behind him.

“What about Leia?”

Lando huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?”

Luke walked a little faster.

Luke kept his eyes on the entrance to the hangar while Lando banged at the side of the loading ramp, waited a few seconds, banged another couple times. Luke was about to suggest trying the coms when he heard a  _ thump-thump  _ in response, and he and Lando stepped aside for the ramp to lower to the ground.

Chewie growled and stepped aside for them to come up; Luke wondered for a second why he seemed so unsurprised, until he remembered Lando saying Chewie had been the one who saw him taking food off the Falcon.

“Looks like it’s a go,” Lando said. “No stopping this one.”

Chewie rolled his eyes and snorted; of course not.

“Ready to go?”

Chewie nodded and growled that they were set for takeoff before walking past them and down the ramp, but Lando led Luke down the hall to the cockpit.

“Where is he--?”

“Someone’s gotta open the hangar,” Lando said. He settled into the copilot’s seat and looked over the dashboard, flipping the last few switches and knobs to power up the engines. “Should be--”

He was cut off by the mechanical grinding sound of the loading ramp being shut, Chewie rushing into the cockpit a second later.

The only warning Luke got was Chewie pushing that last lever, and he was jostled back into one of the passenger seats by the rough lurch of the ship leaving the ground, clutching the backpack to his chest. His heart pounded against his ribcage, anxiety and excitement blurring together at the thought of what they were doing.

There was no way they wouldn't be found out, and there would be hell to pay when they got back, but they were  _ going, _ and however uncomfortable he was with the feeling of being so dependent on someone else for his safety, it really did seem less daunting than going alone.

Luke let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding once they were clear of the hangar, wobbling through the sky before punching through the atmosphere, the engines evening out to a smooth rumble.

“Where to?” Lando asked, shooting a glance over his shoulder.

“Um.” Luke pulled the sketch he'd made out of his pocket, smoothing the creases out over his thigh. “I need to get to a trading post.”

Chewie grumbled something he couldn’t quite hear, but he saw Lando nod, hesitating for a second before punching in some coordinates.

“Staying in the Outer Rim is probably our safest bet,” Lando said.  _ “Maybe _ Mid Rim if you haven't found what you need yet, but they’ll be crawling with those Imperial bastards by now.”

Luke nodded; he'd expected as much.

“Where are we going?”

“Rattatak.”

Luke didn’t get the chance to respond before the com pinged; Lando and Chewie both froze for a second before gesturing for the other to answer it, but the com kept pinging, and Lando eventually hit the button.

_ “What the  _ fuck _ do you think you're doing?” _

“Would you believe me if I said a long snack run?”

_ “Turn around.” _

Lando paused, holding his hand over the receiver and looking over to Luke. “I don’t think we've gotten far enough to justify saying no.”

Luke’s throat felt tight. “Easier to get forgiveness than permission, right?”

“Oh, hells…” he grumbled, tapping his fingers anxiously over the receiver before he was startled by a burst of static.

_ “Lando!” _

“Luke was trying to go alone, and you know he would just--”

_ “Turn. Around.” _

Lando hesitated, glancing over to Luke again before he took a deep breath and said a rushed, “We’ll check in every couple hours, I’ll bring him right back,” and he smacked the button to end the call before Leia could say anything else.

The silence in the room felt thick and heavy, all three of them very still, and Luke was struck with the impulse to turn back before he saw Lando gearing up the engines for hyperdrive.

“If we don't find what you need on Rattatak,” Lando said slowly, the rumbling of the engines getting louder, “or the first sign of trouble--”

“We turn around,” Luke cut in. “That’s fine.”

Lando nodded and locked eyes with Chewie, and Luke was thrust back against the chair from the force of the hyperdrive starting up.

“You can figure out what to say to Leia when we get back,” Lando said, but there was a smile in his voice, and Luke couldn't help smiling back at him.

“That’s fair.”

 

The ride wasn't long with the hyperdrive, and Luke didn't realize he had started to doze off until he was startled out of it by the engines whirring louder than before, the ship lurching uncomfortably when it slowed down before breaking through the atmosphere.

“We made it already?”

Lando nodded and stretched, rolling his neck before turning the chair to face Luke. “There’s a trading post a few minutes’ walk from here. Should be able to put a dent in that list of yours, at least.”

Luke stood up to dig through the backpack as soon as the ship settled to the ground, pushing through packets of dehydrated food and hastily stuffed-in clothes to find the stack of credit chips he’d been able to scrounge up since leaving Tatooine.

“You sure you'll be able to use those?”

Luke looked up with a shrug before shoving them into his pockets. “I can try.”

Luke fished around inside the backpack in case he'd missed any of the credits, but he paused when his fingers brushed up against the cool metal of the blaster.

Lando looked up when he took it out, stopping him before he could tuck it into his belt.

“You got anywhere else to put that?”

Luke patted at his jacket and shrugged when he couldn't feel any inside pockets.

“You don't want to look like you're expecting a fight,” Lando said, looking around the cockpit before clapping his hands together and heading out to the hall. “I think we have something you can use.”

Luke sped up to meet him, pushing down the tight, anxious feeling in his chest when Lando opened the door to Han’s bunk.

“I don't know for sure that he still has it,” he said, pulling the drawers out from under the bed, “but it would be here if he does, he never cleans up in here.”

Luke nodded, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve while Lando dug through the drawers, standing up again to look through the overhead storage when he didn't find anything.

The air felt too thick, and Luke couldn’t tell if the room was actually stuffy or if it was just him.

“What a mess,” Lando mumbled to himself, dropping crumpled shirts and a jar of coins and a handful of other bits and bobs onto the bed to make room; an old vest came tumbling out when he wrenched a tangled clump of leather out of the compartment, handing it off to Luke.

“Is this…?”

“A shoulder holster, and  _ mine,” _ Lando said, cramming everything back into the compartment before sliding it shut. He stepped down to help Luke untangle the straps. “It’s seen better days. Take your jacket off.”

Luke hesitated for a second before dropping his jacket and the blaster onto the bed, holding his arms out for Lando to help him put the holster on.

“And you're using your left hand, so…”

It took another couple minutes of yanking straps and tugging at buckles before the holster was comfortably snug around Luke’s torso, secure enough not to wobble when Lando pulled at the sides to check that it was on right.

“There we are.” Lando handed him back the blaster, and then his jacket once Luke had snapped it into the holster. He frowned when Luke pulled it back on, tugging at the front and smoothing the shoulders down until he’d fixed whatever hadn't been sitting right. “Can’t even tell you're packing.”

Lando's hand lingered on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing over Luke's collarbone for a second before he stepped back to lead Luke back out to the hall.

“Keep the coms open,” he shouted towards the cockpit, opening up the loading ramp. “And tell Leia we’ve landed, no problems.”

“Chewie’s not coming?”

“Always have a getaway man.”

They waited at the bottom for Chewie to close the ramp from inside the cockpit; Lando pulled out the small holopad Luke recognized from the hospital, looking around them and turning it on its side a couple times before pointing behind Luke.

“Should be this way.”

They were both quiet for most of the walk to the trading post, Luke too distracted to think of any sort of conversation; he’d never been on Rattatak, but he’d seen a couple holograms back home, when Beru insisted on him memorizing all the habitable planets from the Core territories to the Outer Rim.

He hadn't been very good at it, but he remembered what he  _ saw, _ that pull to get somewhere else, more than he remembered the actual lessons, and he remembered Rattatak looking a whole lot more populated.

“Where is everyone?” he asked eventually, kicking a rock along with him until it bounced too far away.

“Not here, anymore,” Lando said, “for the most part. This is the sticks.”

“Oh.”

“Less chance of any Imperial...hiccups, out here, I figured.”

Luke nodded and brushed his fingers over the blaster under his jacket.

It wasn't long before what had to be the trading post came into view, a cluster of tents and worn-down stalls scattered in a wide circle surrounded by traders’ and smugglers’ ships.

“I think we could have brought the Falcon closer.”

“Only if we want to be picked out of a crowd more easily,” Lando said. “Old girl’s reputation isn't  _ all _ embellished.”

Luke hummed, looking down at himself and then at Lando, and it occurred to him that if he didn't know him already, he  _ wouldn't _ be able to pick Lando out of a crowd; his clothes were simple and plainer than what he usually wore, muted colors and almost drab cuts, like the two of them were just on the way to hitching their next ride.

“You're really good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“This whole…” Luke shrugged and gestured vaguely in front of himself. “Getting here, the getaway thing, not being noticed.” He paused. “The shoulder holster?”

Lando grinned, his shoulders set a little straighter. “I had some practice. Wasn't always in administration, you know.”

He had to know Han from somewhere, Luke realized.

Luke wrinkled his nose as they got closer, the smell of fuel and unfamiliar foods mixing together and making his sinuses itch. If there was one thing in common with every trading post or spaceport he’d been to, though, it was the  _ noise, _ voices over voices over metal clanking together and the  _ hiss-woosh _ of someone welding; he paused for just a second, eyes closed, not breathing in, and it didn't feel much different from Mos Eisley, or even Tosche Station on a busy day. 

“What are you looking for?” Lando asked once they'd reached the edge of the ring of ships and stalls. “Second set of eyes is better than one.”

Luke pulled the sketch out of his pocket, glancing around to make sure no one was looking too closely. “I’m not sure exactly.”

Lando let out a slow breath. “You just have to know it when you see it.”

“I mean…” Luke chewed at his thumbnail for a second. “It’s not like there’s anyone making the actual parts, but I only really need the crystal...and that...maybe  _ that, _ but I think I can use other things for the rest.”

“Like?”

“Well.” Luke’s hand hovered over the sketch while he mentally ticked off the things he had no idea how to find yet. “The outer casing, I think, that shouldn't be hard.”

“It needs to be hollow?”

Luke nodded.

“You could use a pipe from a thrust reactor, if we find a good size.”

Luke held his fingers in a circle. “Like that.”

“We can get that anywhere.” Lando stepped out of the way of a small crowd of people coming through, pulling Luke to the side between the backs of two stalls. “What else?”

“I need a fuse coil--coils, actually, I need two.”

“Should be able to get that here too.”

“And those, if we can find them,” Luke added, pointing at two smaller, tighter coils on either side of where he'd drawn the crystal. “But I'm not sure what we could…”

“Mm.” Lando held his hand out for the paper to get a closer look. “That I'm not so sure about. What are those?”

Luke looked over to where Lando was pointing at the two thin blocks below the smaller coils. “Those are to stabilize the energy from the crystal.”

Lando raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen something similar in some droids before, but I don't know if I’d be able to use it as-is.”

“You know what to look for, though?”

“I think so.”

“Anything else?”

Luke took the paper back and skimmed through the last few notes. “I need a switch to turn it on, but I don’t think it needs to be from anything specific.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Lando gestured for him to put the sketch back in his pocket before stepping out from between the stalls. “Let’s start with that piping.”

It only took a few minutes to find a booth with a thrust reactor cheap enough for Luke to take apart for the pipe, careful not to jostle his jacket out of the way of the blaster when he dug out his credit chips. Two stalls over found them a fuse coil, and another few minutes of searching found them the second--more expensive than the first one, and Luke didn't miss that the sellers seemed to be off the same ship--but it felt like they had been at a booth full of spare droid parts for ages with no luck.

“We should be skedaddling soon,” Lando leaned in to murmur, barely audible to Luke over the rest of the noise. “We’ve been here a little long.”

Luke nodded and chewed at his bottom lip. “I know, just...oh!”

“Found it?”

“I think so.”

Luke glanced up to check that the seller wasn't looking too closely when he picked up a chunk of metal and wires, the ends pulled and frayed like the piece had been ripped out.

It was unsettling.

Luke turned it over in his hands to get a better look, but he didn't get much of a chance to see if it was really what he needed before the seller grunted at him.

“Touch it, buy it.”

“What?”

“Get it or go, you're blocking the real customers.”

It didn't seem to matter that the only people there were him and Lando.

“I--” Luke glanced at Lando, but he was just met with a shrug. “I’ll get it.”

He handed over the credits, heart pounding at the odd look it got him from the seller, but they didn’t say anything, and Luke walked away from the stall as fast as he could without running.

“I’m pretty sure you were overcharged,” Lando said, glancing behind him when he caught up with Luke. “Couldn't have used one of those tricks to get some more time?”

“I don't know.” Luke held the piece of metal close to his chest. “I don't like the idea of doing that kind of thing unless I need to, it feels wrong.”

Lando hummed and nodded, and it looked like he was about to say something else when he grabbed Luke’s arm to pull him between the next couple booths.

“What are you--?”

Luke stopped when Lando held two fingers to his mouth, and he could practically feel the way his face blanched.

Lando slowly, carefully leaned out to get another look before jerking back. “We have to go.”

“Is it--?”

Lando nodded.

Luke took a deep breath, bumping his fingers against the blaster under his jacket.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Lando murmured. “Don't look like you're expecting a fight unless you want one, remember?”

“What do we do?” Luke whispered back.

Lando motioned for him to hold on while he pulled a com from his pocket, wincing at the scratchy static before it connected.

“Chewie--yeah, get it ready, we’re on our way.” Lando put the com back in his pocket and took a deep breath. “You first, I’ll follow right behind. Try not to face them, you could be anyone from the back.”

Luke nodded, and he didn't think the absence of the lightsaber’s weight against his hip had ever felt heavier.

“You can make yourself not be noticed, can’t you?”

“I--I think so, I’ve never tried it on anyone like this--”

Lando nudged his shoulder and nodded towards the rest of the booths. “Well, you're trying it now.”

Luke bit his lip, and he thought back on his training, and he stepped out from between the two stalls.

He kept his breathing as even and shallow as he could, eyes down, carefully scooting past and around groups of traders and people clustered around booths. He could hear his heart racing in his ears, but he kept his head down, darting behind another booth when it started to feel like Lando should have caught up with him by then.

He hadn't been able to notice much of a change when he tried to keep himself hidden, but everything felt louder and clearer as soon as he lost his focus, peering out from behind the booth to try to find Lando.

Luke’s throat felt tight when he managed to spot him, easy to miss through the throngs of people between them; there was no way to miss the two Stormtroopers standing in front of him, stark white against the rest of the crowd.

Luke reached into his jacket, slowly unsnapping his blaster from the holster, but he paused.

Lando was holding something--small and flat, but he couldn't make out what--passing it between the two Stormtroopers. 

Luke frowned; why wasn't he  _ leaving--? _

He had to remind himself to breathe when he saw one of them pull out a small light, flashing it over whatever Lando had given them, and he didn’t think before pulling the blaster out and switching the safety off.

There was no way he could get to Lando without both of them being noticed, let alone make it back to the Falcon in one piece; his finger twitched over the trigger, pulling in a shaky breath while he scrambled for some sort of plan.

He didn't get the chance to think of one before the first Stormtrooper held out whatever Lando had given him to the other.

One of the stalls across the aisle and a little ways down from Luke was empty.

He shot at one of the posts holding up the makeshift roof.

It splintered apart with a  _ crash _ amidst shouts and screams from everyone around it; the Stormtroopers cocked their guns and looking away from Lando for a split second, just long enough for him to spin around and make eye contact with Luke before they both took off.

Luke heard the scratchy sound of one of the Stormtroopers shouting after Lando, but he had already melted into the crowd.

Luke only stopped at the edge of the ring of ships to duck behind a freighter, his lungs burning while he caught his breath; the crowd was moving like a directionless swarm of bugs now that no more shoto were fired, impossible to get a good look at anyone.

His breathing was still ragged when he felt someone grab his arm from behind him, and he almost dropped the materials he was still holding in his right hand to punch at whoever it was before Lando caught his wrist.

“Just me. Come on.”

Luke let out a sigh of relief, shooting a glance over his shoulder when Lando pulled him back into a run to see that the Stormtroopers were still busy with the crowd.

Lando's hand was tight around his wrist, only letting go once they could see the Falcon to get the com out of his pocket.

“The ramp--Chewie!--get the ramp.”

It hadn't quite hit the ground before they got there, hopping up the last few inches and slamming the button to shut it again as soon as it was in reach.

Luke slumped back against the wall while it pulled shut. He switched the safety back on the blaster and slipped it into the holster, his hand shaking from adrenaline. Lando stood on his tiptoes to look out of the small gap just before it was closed completely, before grabbing Luke’s arm to pull him into the cockpit.

“Chewie, let’s get going!”

Luke had to reach out to catch himself on the wall when the ship lurched, engines rumbling noisily for takeoff.

“Are you okay?”

Lando nodded and took a couple deep breaths, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead. “Lost my best fake papers, but.” He grinned and clapped his hand down on Luke’s shoulder before heading into the cockpit. “That was smart, back there.”

Luke dropped into the seat behind the pilot’s chair just as the ship lurched into the air, knocking him back against the headrest.

“How’re we doing?” Lando asked, hands flying over the dashboard.

Chewie grunted.

“Don't think so,” he said, “but let’s not stick around to find out. Keep those trackers on.”

Luke put the piece of metal and wires down in his lap to dig through his pockets for the rest of the parts; he lay them out along his legs, shuffling through his remaining credit chips.

“Still got everything?”

“Yeah.” Luke put the credits back in his pocket, and then the pieces that could fit, fiddling with the frayed wires sticking out of the last piece of metal. “They definitely overcharged me, though.”

 

Leia was waiting for them in the hangar as soon as they landed, stepping up to meet them the moment they lowered the loading ramp.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Luke adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, fighting down the impulse to glance back at Lando. “I--”

“You could have been killed, all three of--you could have been  _ followed, _ you could have been tracked back here, we’re going to have to up the surveillance teams for  _ days  _ now--”

“Leia,” Lando started, but she shook her head, lips pursed in a thin line.

“I haven’t even gotten to you yet, but  _ you,” _ she said, pointing at Luke, “I  _ told you _ to wait. I told you why. And you still run off and put this entire operation at risk. Everyone on this base.”

“I couldn't just--”

“You absolutely could have, whatever you think you're about to say.” She let out a huff of breath, jaw clenching. “And you,” she said, looking to Lando, “needed to stop him, not make it easier to go pulling a stunt like that. Did you two not realize how fatally irresponsible this was, or did you not care?”

“He was going to go alone,” Lando said. “We weren't followed, I made sure of it.”

“Yes, you've said, which is where the  _ stopping him _ comes in.”

“Leia,” Luke said quietly. “Can I please talk to you?”

Leia’s eyes narrowed.

“This isn't Lando's fault.”

“Oh, I know that, you were the one trying to run off in the first place.”

“Please.”

Leia’s eyes narrowed; she looked from Luke to Lando and back to Luke again, before she said, “Fine,” turning around and waving Luke over to follow. “Falcon’s grounded,” she shouted over her shoulder. “You don’t leave unless I explicitly say so.”

“Understood,” Lando shouted back.

Leia silently led Luke out of the hangar, waiting until they were in a mostly empty hallway before she stopped, arms crossed tight over her chest.

“You wanted to talk, talk.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke said. “I know you said to wait--”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Luke gripped the strap of the backpack a little tighter. “I couldn't risk--with the blaster, and my hand, if it happened again…” He grit his teeth and looked away. “I need a defense I can rely on.”

Leia let out a slow breath and shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “So instead you put yourself  _ and _ Lando  _ and _ Chewbacca and everyone else on this base in danger, because you don't like feeling vulnerable.”

“That’s not--”

“That's exactly what this is,” Leia cut him off. “I don't care if you don’t like not having your big glowstick, we have a job to do. You need to think about the big picture before you go running off so you can play Jedi again.”

Luke bristled. “I have a job to do, too.”

Leia’s eyebrows shot up. “The job that that Yoda of yours gave you before you  _ left?” _

“Yes!”

“Well.” Leia snorted. “Can’t do that job if you're dead. Or captured. Or captured and then dead, if you led a bunch of Imperial ships right to our door.”

“We didn't--”

“You can be the judge of that, now,” she said, “since you get to be on surveillance.”

Luke opened his mouth to say something before snapping it shut again with a nod. “Alright.”


	4. Chapter 4

It took a few days before Luke could find the time and the equipment to saw down the pipe for the lighsaber’s outer casing, piecing as much of it together as he could with what he had so far in his few spare moments.

He told himself it would look better when he had the rest, but seeing how much work there was left to do was getting disheartening.

Luke was fiddling with one of the fuse coils a few weeks later, his lap covered in dust and tiny flakes of metal from filing the ends down to the right size, staring blankly at the empty radar when his com pinged.

“Still nothing to report up here--”

_ “Find me when you're done with your shift,” _ Leia said.

There was something in her tone that made Luke pause, setting the coil and the file down in front of him.

“What is it?”

_ “I’ll explain later,” _ she said, and the connection went dead before Luke could press it any further.

Luke felt frozen in place, only remembering to lower his hand and put the com away once his arm started to get tired.

There were so many reasons for Leia to call him in the middle of a shift that were less important--and more likely--than the one thing he couldn't get his mind off of, but that didn’t make it any easier to stop thinking about it.

He almost wished the radars had been busy enough to warrant not being the only one in the surveillance tower right then.

The seconds dragged on intolerably slowly, and Luke was this close to hitting his head against the wall just to pass the time once the end of his shift rolled along, bolting from the surveillance tower the moment his relief came up.

“Leia,” Luke said into the com’s receiver, clearing his throat against the frantic tone in his voice. “Leia, where are you?”

It was an agonizing few seconds before her voice came through.  _ “Briefing room.” _

This base was smaller than on Hoth, and it only took a couple minutes to get there, but his heart was pounding by the time he opened the door.

“What's--?” He stopped when he saw Lando, standing a couple feet from Leia, his expression tight and strained. “Is it him?”

They both nodded.

“Where?”

“Tatooine, we think,” Leia said, and Luke felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. “We’re sending an undercover team to find out for sure.”

It took a second for Luke to put a response together, sifting through the million things rushing through his head at once. “When do we go?”

Leia frowned and glanced over at Lando. “When we hear back from the undercover team.”

“Why do we need--?”

“Word is, he’s at Jabba’s,” Lando said, “and we can’t exactly go in there guns-blazing without confirmation.”

“The crew’s being sent out right now,” Leia said. “We should know in a few days.”

“A few  _ days?” _

“He’s been frozen for months, Luke, he’s not going anywhere,” she said. “They can’t go straight there without giving away our position.”

Luke tried not to think about how that last part seemed to be directed at him.

“So what do we do?”

Leia sighed and shoved her hands deep in her pockets. “We can plan once we know exactly where he is.”

“What do we do  _ now?” _

“We wait,” Leia said. “I know you aren't the best at that, but do try not to run off again before we have a plan.”

Luke frowned, but the jab went right over him as soon as he thought back to his partially finished lightsaber, sitting in pieces back in his room.

“I still--I have to--oh, hell.” Luke groaned and squeezed the heels of his palms against his temples. “I--”

“The lightsaber?” Lando asked, and Luke nodded. “You've still got a few days, let’s see what we can do. Leia, are you--?”

Leia nodded. “Keep your coms handy.”

Luke had to consciously keep himself from running when he left with Lando for his room. His mind was racing over what he had finished so far, what he still had to do, what he still had to  _ get, _ and Lando had to walk a little faster to keep up with him.

Luke went straight for the small table laid out with the pieces of his lightsaber, touching over each one and comparing it for the thousandth time to the sketch, even though he’d already crossed off everything he had.

He’d been wracking his brain since he got back from Rattatak with Lando, desperate for something to jump out at him as something he could find on base, but without much success.

“What do you still need to find?”

“Um.” Luke handed him the paper, rubbing the back of his neck while he stared down at the mess on the table. “Anything not crossed out.”

“I don't know what half of these are.”

“Most of it was never in production except for lightsabers.” Luke let out a frustrated sigh. “And I have no idea--” He stopped, eyes wide, clapping his hands down on the table hard enough that the smaller pieces shook.  _ “Oh.” _

Lando's eyebrow quirked upwards. “What?”

“Tatooine,” Luke said breathlessly, spinning around to face Lando. “We have to go to Tatooine.”

“I don’t think Leia would--”

“No, I mean, we have to go to Tatooine for Han, right, that's--oh, this is perfect.”

“Can’t tell if that's sarcastic or not.”

“No! No, this is good, this is.” Luke stopped himself and took a deep breath. “I need to make a stop once we get there. I think I know where to get the rest of this.”

“Where’s that?”

“Obi-Wan--Ben--did Leia--?”

Lando nodded.

“He was living there for years, he had my--the lightsaber he gave to me, he had it there that whole time.”

“And you think he’d have materials for another one.”

Luke hesitated, and then he shrugged, glancing back at the pieces on the table. “I have to hope so. If it’s anywhere, it’d be there.”

Lando nodded slowly and followed Luke’s eyes to the table. “What do you need to do before then?”

“Not much. It’ll be easier to put everything together once I have it all.” Luke nodded to himself and looked from the lightsaber pieces to Lando. “I think I'm ready.”

“Well.” Lando shrugged and gestured vaguely around Luke’s torso, and then at his shoes.

“‘Well’ what?”

“You don’t look like much of a Jedi in fatigues.”

“But I’ll have--

“Gotta have the look, too. You might as well be any other rebel with a lightsaber, like this.”

“I guess.” Luke frowned and looked down at his clothes, tugging at the front of his shirt. “Maybe there’s something at Obi-Wan’s old place?”

Lando shook his head. “Don’t think so. It’s been too long.”

“I don’t know where else to get anything that doesn't look like this.”

Lando hummed, looking Luke up-and-down before holding his hand up a few inches above his head. “You know how to sew at all?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good.” Lando nodded to himself, holding one of Luke’s arms out to the side before letting it drop again. “Okay. I think we can find something.”

“Where?”

“Han’s old stuff, mostly.”

“Do you think he'd mind?”

“Certainly not right now.”

 

They found a pair of boots easy enough, stuffing the toes with tissues until they mostly fit, and a shirt that smelled like dust; the rest didn't come quite so quickly.

“That man,” Lando grumbled, digging through the contents of one of the overhead storage compartments, dumped out onto the bed, “does not know how to organize.”

Luke rocked on the balls of his feet to see if he’d filled the boots enough. “He does not.”

“Do you think--” Lando started, holding up a pair of pants before dropping it again with a huff when he got it in better lighting. “Blue’s not going to work.”

“Why not? It looks pretty dark, if you're not looking too close.”

“Oh, bless your heart.” Lando stood up to open up the next compartment. “You’ll be able to tell, trust me.”

Luke shrugged and pulled off the boots, tucking them in the corner by the door to go help Lando. “What about those?”

“Let’s see…” It took a minute for Lando to pry the pants free from the rest of the junk and old clothes crammed into the compartment. “If you can take off the stripe, I think you're good. These look too small for him anyway.”

Luke nodded and tossed the pants over his shoulder. “Is that everything?”

“Oh, no.” Lando started pulling out anything that looked like fabric to drop onto the bed. “There’s still that...I’ve seen the old holograms, they all had--the Jedi--there was that...it wasn't a vest, but.” He held his hands up by his shoulders, crossing them down over his chest. “Like that.”

“Oh! Yeah.”

“And a cape,” Lando said.

“Seriously?”

“Serious as a heart attack. It's part of the  _ look. _ Dramatic effect, and all. Why else do you think Darth Vader looks like that?”

Luke huffed a laugh, holding the pants up close to his face to get a better look at the stripe sewn down the side. “Where would we get the fabric? Or any sewing supplies, really.”

_ “That _ I’m not so sure about,” Lando said, “but there might be a box in here with some thread, at least.”

“Really?”

“When you only wear the same two outfits, you want to know how to patch them up.” Lando stood up on his toes to look at the back of the compartment. “He still dress like that?”

It hadn't really occurred to him before--it wasn't like he had been spoiled for choice, until he’d left Tatooine--but Han didn't seem to have much variety either.

“Yeah, actually.”

“Then he’ll have something.” Lando gestured behind him towards a crate in the far corner. “Try in there.”

Luke nodded and put the pants down on the bed. It took some prying to get the lid off of the crate, stuffed so full of junk that a couple used blaster cartridges toppled off the top as soon as they weren't being held down.

“I think this is just trash.”

Lando looked over his shoulder to Luke and the crate. “He just doesn't know how to get rid of anything, give it a shot.”

Luke poked through the crate, precariously stacking as much as he could against the side. He’d made his way mostly to the bottom when he swore under his breath, nicking the side of his finger on a pair of scissors.

“That’s something,” he mumbled to himself, setting them aside.

Luke yanked an old sweater free, holey and fraying; he couldn't help hesitating, squeezing the thick knit between his fingers before leaning over to carefully set it down on the bed.

Luke took a deep breath and squeezed his hands together for a second, shaking his head to himself before continuing through the crate.

He had to start a second pile of  _ stuff _ by the time he found a small tin box, dented and rusty at the corners.

“This, maybe?”

Lando glanced over and shrugged, piling everything they weren't using back into the overhead compartment. “Could be.”

The top was almost rusted shut, and Luke’s fingertips were sore by the time he managed to get it open, its contents almost spilling out from the rough yank that finally got it.

“You were right,” Luke said, carefully poking through the box to avoid the needles haphazardly stuck through scraps of fabric, bent pins scattered along the bottom.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Lando shut the compartment and stepped down, straightening out his shirt. “That thing got a seam ripper in there?”

“There's, um, this,” Luke said, holding out a small piece of plastic with a curved, sharp bit of metal at the end.

“That’s it.” Lando looked around the room, tapping his thumb against his lip. “You know where he keeps extra blankets?”

Luke thought for a second before pointing to one of the drawers under the bed. “That one, I think.”

Lando pulled it open, holding fistfuls of fabric up to the pants until he found one dark enough to match. “This should be good for that...vest...thing,” he said, holding it out for Luke to take.

Luke nodded and draped it over his shoulder, pinching the ends between his fingers. “I don’t think this’ll be big enough for that  _ and _ a cape.”

“No, I don't think so.” Lando dug through the drawer one last time before pushing it shut. “You’ll need another one for that, but someone's gotta have another blanket here somewhere.”

Luke folded it over a couple times, pinching it again to see how thick it was. “That’s gonna get  _ so _ hot. No one even really wears black there.”

“You don't have to keep it on the whole time.” Lando took the shirt and the pants from the bed, handing them to Luke before looking around to see if he'd missed anything. “If you get started with that, I’ll try to track down that blanket.”

Luke nodded and picked up the box of sewing supplies, and he tucked the sweater in between the blanket and the pants when it seemed like Lando wasn't looking.

Back in his room, Luke’s fingers itched to keep working on his lightsaber, even though there was nothing left for him to do until he had the rest of the materials; he pushed everything aside, forcing himself to ignore it while he started on Han’s old clothes.

The strips of fabric came off the side of the pants easily with the seam ripper--he might have to take that one, he decided, he really could have used one of those fixing his own clothes back on Tatooine--hemming the shirt sleeves until they didn't hang down to his fingers.

The pants took a little longer to take in, his legs scratched up from pins by the time they were mostly done; he flopped back onto his bed with a sigh, cracking his knuckles and trying to stretch out the ache in his back from leaning over for so long to pin the seams.

Luke had almost managed to will himself upright to find his pants again when there was a knock against the door.

“Luke, you in there?”

“Yeah.”

Lando pointedly looked away when he came in; Luke almost toppled off the bed reaching for his pants, tripping a little over the ends when he pulled them back on.

“Sorry, I was--the pants are done--what’s up?”

“This should be big enough for the cape.” Lando handed him a folded up blanket tucked under his arm, and then what smelled like a steamed bun wrapped in a couple napkins. “And  _ this _ is because you missed dinner.”

“I really--thank you,  _ so _ much--how long has it been?”

“Few hours,” Lando said, walking over to the table to look down at where Luke had left the shirt and scraps of thread. “How’s this coming along?”

Luke groaned and rubbed at his eyes, aching from staring so closely at dark thread on dark fabric for so long.

“The shirt and the pants are done.”

“Mm.” Lando paused. “And this?”

Luke looked over to where he was pointing at the messy sketches on the back of the paper where he'd drawn the lightsaber.

“I haven’t started that yet.”

Lando held up the paper in front of Luke, squinting between Luke and the paper. “What if you made it shorter?”

Luke came over to take a look and shrugged; he’d drawn it as best he could from memory, trying to get it as close to Obi-wan’s robes as possible.

“It looks a little old fashioned,” Lando said, tracing his finger up from the bottom of the sketch to a bit below Luke’s hip. “Like that, maybe. Easier to get around in, too.”

Luke looked down at himself, tapping his fingers along his hips where Lando had pointed on the sketch. “That's a good idea.”

Luke looked over to the table, scattered with scissors and spools of thread, but Lando nudged him back in the direction of the bed before he could even try to start again.

“You need a break, it looks like your eyes are about to fall out.”

“I don't know how long this will--”

“I can get the cutting started, eat.”

Luke frowned, only going back to the bed when Lando sat down in the one chair by the table.

“You don’t have to--”

“I know,” Lando said. “It’s been a while.”

Luke took a bite out of the bun; he hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started eating. “Been a while since what?”

Lando leaned over to draw something else on the paper, glancing from the sketch to the blanket and back again. “Haven’t had the free time to make anything new.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Wouldn't have thought I’d be doing it  _ now, _ but there it is.”

“You made your own clothes?”

“You really think I could get this stuff off the rack?”

Luke grinned, wiping over his mouth with the back of his natural hand. “Guess not.”

“Could go for a pattern, though,” Lando mumbled to himself, tapping the pencil against his chin.

“Mmph--” Luke swallowed and cleared his throat before setting the bun down and going back to the table. “I got it.”

Lando handed him the pencil and scooted the chair over so Luke didn’t have to lean so much. It only took a minute to draw what the pieces would look like, but Luke had to be careful not to tear the paper, already covered in indents from how tightly he had to hold the pencil with his right hand to keep his lines straight.

“Does that look right?”

“Perfect. Now eat.”

Lando had to move everything from the table to the chair to have room to lay out the blanket, glancing over at Luke every so often to gauge how long to cut the pieces. He didn't quite manage to stifle a yawn when Lando finally dropped the scissors to the table.

“Just gotta put it all together. Not  _ now,” _ he said when Luke stood up, rubbing at his eyes again. “Plenty of time in the morning when you won’t look like you're about to keel over.”

“I’m on surveillance in the morning, I don't…”

“Not anymore.” Lando folded up the fabric pieces and tucked them at the back of the table, balling up the scraps left over from the blanket. “Leia said you're off while we wait for word about Han. Can't have you leaving in the middle of a shift if we have to go.”

_ “Oh.” _ Luke flopped back onto the bed with a deep sigh. “You've got no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

“That boring?”

“Big time.” Luke yawned again and rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “I think that radar’s permanently burned into my retinas.”

“I don't doubt it.” Lando stopped by the bed for a second on his way to the door. “One of us will get you if there's any news.”

Luke nodded, chewing at the inside of his cheek while he watched Lando leave. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it.”

“Thank you,” Luke said again, a little more insistently, and he couldn't help smiling back at the grin Lando shot him before he closed the door behind him.

Luke didn't move for a second, staring at the door until he took a deep breath and stood up again to change into sleeping clothes.

He had to force his eyes away from the fabric on the table, reminding himself that he  _ was _ this tired, and he would only be giving himself more work to do if he tried to push through it and messed something up, he really did just need to sleep.

It didn’t keep him from tossing and turning for what felt like hours before he finally fell asleep, and his dreams felt cold and dark and just a little like Han.

 

It was dark when Luke shot upright just before he fell from Cloud City.

His shirt was damp with sweat, his throat too tight to catch his breath. His head still spun with the sensation of falling even with his hands gripping at the sheets, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, leaning most of his weight on the floor until he managed to stop hyperventilating.

His hands shook, his whole body quaking and shivering, and he could still hear Darth Vader’s voice in his head as clearly as if he was in the room.

_ No. _

Luke squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

_ I am-- _

“Shut up,” Luke said through grit teeth, clamping his hands over his ears, leaning forward until his head was between his knees. “Shut up, shut  _ up.” _

Luke held the heels of his palms against his temples until his head started to hurt.

He pulled in a shaky breath and forced himself upright, squinting against the dark; he could still hear his heartbeat rushing in his ears as he looked over everything in the room--the door is there, the bed is here, there's the table--reminding himself he was still in his room until he could fully believe it.

His eyes lingered on the black fabric on the table, a darker shadow against the rest, and the last few words he tried so hard to ignore clanged around his skull.

_ I am your father. _

Luke shook his head; he had to force his hand down when it was a few inches from his forehead, pushing back the impulse to hit the heel of his palm against his head, as if it could force that voice away, lingering behind his eyes like a migraine.

It had been almost easy to push that memory to the very back of his mind before, bouncing from one task to another; all his focus had gone to his hand and the panic to get back to Dagobah, and then worrying about Han, and then worrying about  _ getting _ Han, filled in with the day-to-day business of being on base, too much happening all at once to even find the time to think about what Darth Vader had said to him.

It was a lie, he told himself, any time the thought crept past everything else on his mind; it had to be. It just didn't make sense.

It  _ couldn't _ make sense.

He looked at the black fabric again, and he thought about what Lando had said, back at the hospital; Yoda had told him to stay, leave Han and Leia to die, and he left, and then they didn't.

He thought about Yoda insisting he couldn't be trained, too much like his father.

He thought about the way Owen and Beru didn't have a single image of his father, on hologram or paper or anything else, steadfastly avoiding or changing the subject to give him as little information as possible.

They would have had to lie.

He wanted to tell himself that couldn't possibly be the case, they couldn't have lied to him like that, all of them, and for  _ so long, _ but.

He couldn't shake the disturbing certainty that came whenever he replayed those words in his head.

Luke took a deep breath; there was only one person alive who could tell him for sure, and he'd firmly avoided thinking about it, putting all his energy into figuring out how to get a new lightsaber, how to get Han back, refusing to think about the responsibility he had left behind.

He had to get back to Dagobah.

 

Luke hadn’t been able to get back to sleep, staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours before pushing himself out of bed with a groan to start pinning; anything to keep him busy, anything to think about but  _ that. _

He really could have done with a second set of hands, the fabric bunching awkwardly from having to bend over to do it himself; but Lando had already done so much, and Leia would be so busy, he told himself he would try again in a few minutes.

A few minutes passed, and Luke was absently poking a pin along the fingertips of his right hand, and then his left, frowning to himself at the way it felt more like a tingle than a pinprick on his right.

He  _ really _ was about to get up that time, he told himself, when he heard a knock at the door, startling him enough he almost dropped the pin.

“Come in.”

“Didn't see you at breakfast,” Lando said, closing the door behind him. “Leia was about to come down, but she had to run.” He paused. “How’s that going?”

“Well…” Luke looked down at himself and tugged at the lumpy fabric going down his front. “It’s going.”

Lando tilted his head and gave Luke a once-over. “Stand up.”

Luke pushed himself up out of the chair, trying to smooth out the fabric.

“No, leave it, just stand straight.”

Luke dropped his arms at his sides.

“Looks like you got it pretty close…” Lando said, pulling a few of the pins out of the side and holding them between his teeth while he tugged the fabric around.

Lando mumbled something Luke didn't quite catch, but he waited until there weren’t any pins in his mouth before asking him to repeat himself.

“Pinning things on yourself never works as well as you want it to.” Lando pulled at the fabric on Luke's shoulders, and he had to hold back a shiver when he smoothed his hands down Luke's sides. “Still didn't do half bad, though.”

Luke had to try not to stare while Lando finished pinning, his eyes narrowed slightly, that crease appearing again between his eyebrows.

He quickly looked away when Lando stood up straight, but it didn’t seem like he'd managed it in time, Lando’s unflinchingly warm eye contact pulling him right back in.

“Got the belt piece?”

“Oh.” Luke reached behind himself to grab the next strip of fabric from the table. “That one?”

“Mmhm. Arms up.”

Luke held his arms out to the side while Lando wrapped the fabric around his waist, standing back to get a better look before adjusting it another couple times. Luke bit his lip at the way Lando's hands hesitated at his hips before smoothing the belt out, stepping back again with a nod.

“Could do with an iron, but I think we got it.”

“It looks  _ good.” _ Luke looked down at himself and shimmied his hips a little. “I don't know if anyone's gonna have that, though.”

“Put it up in the shower with the water as hot as it goes.”

“Does that really work?”

“It’ll do in a pinch. Hang on.” Lando put his hand on Luke's waist, leaning over to reach for something else on the table; he was so close Luke could smell his soap. “Almost forgot that last piece.”

Luke ducked his head so Lando could loop a longer strip of fabric over his shoulders, smoothing it over his chest and leaning in again to get a couple pins to hold it in place at the bottom.

“Keep those shoulders straight.”

Luke took a deep breath, willing away the flush he could feel creeping up his cheeks when Lando reached around to smooth the fabric down at the back; he couldn't hold down another shiver when Lando's fingers brushed against the back of his neck.

“You look perfect.”

Luke couldn’t get his mouth to work in time to say anything.

“It'll probably look better when you're not in pajamas, though.”

“Oh--” Luke looked down at his legs, only just then remembering he hadn't changed before getting started.

Lando's expression was so warm when he looked back up, and when had they gotten so close--?

He couldn't tell which of them leaned in first, pushing up on the balls of his feet to meet Lando halfway.

That guilt that had felt so overwhelming at the hospital, crammed as far into the back of his mind as he could get it, came creeping back the longer he kissed Lando, however hard he tried to push it back down; he couldn’t think past what Leia had said about putting everyone in danger by running off, bringing Lando even when he had said it was a bad idea, the persistent itch of the fact that he couldn't  _ know _ he had made things any better by leaving Dagobah for Han and Leia, however much he tried to convince himself he had. And Darth Vader...

“I can’t,” he whispered before he'd really thought it.

Lando nodded and took a small step back, dropping his hand from Luke's waist a second later.

“I’m sorry--”

“No, I understand,” Lando said. “With Han coming back--”

“What? No, that's not--that's not what this is at all.” Luke clenched his hands until his left palm stung from his fingernails digging into his skin; another layer of guilt stacked itself on top of the rest.

He scrambled for the words to try to explain, still trying to sort it out himself, but Lando just looked at him expectantly, that hint of a frown making his chest ache.

“I can’t just…” Luke took a deep breath. “I can’t just dress up like a Jedi when everyone needs me to  _ be _ one.”

Lando's eyebrow twitched. “No one said you aren't.”

“But I'm  _ not, _ or at least not acting like it, I should never...” Luke cut himself off and looked away. “I shouldn’t have brought you with me to--to Rattatak, I shouldn't have gone at all, I need to be more--”

“I offered,” Lando pointed out.

“But you said it was a bad idea  _ first, _ and I didn’t listen, and I wouldn't have even gone if someone else had offered because I wanted  _ you _ there and then you almost got captured, or.” Luke trailed off like his mouth wouldn't let him say the words  _ or killed. _ “I put you in danger because I wanted you there, and everyone else here too, I can’t let that happen again.” 

Neither of them said anything for a minute; Luke couldn't read his expression until Lando nodded again, rubbing at the back of his head.

“I'm.” Luke reached for Lando's other hand, loosely looping their fingers together before dropping it a second later. “I'm sorry.”

“You've got a lot on your plate.” Lando caught Luke's hand in a quick squeeze before shoving his hands in his pockets. “I get that.”

Lando let out a slow breath and stepped back towards the door, glancing around the room before putting his hand on the switch to open it, not quite pressing down yet.

“Got everything you need to finish this up?”

Luke nodded; he didn't realize he was biting the inside of his cheek again until he tasted copper.

“If this really has nothing to do with Han--”

“It doesn't.”

Lando nodded and hit the switch for the door. “Just make sure he knows that.”

Lando hesitated in the doorway for a second before Luke managed an “Okay,” and then Luke couldn't get his body to move from that spot once the door closed again and he was alone.

 

The next two days passed in a haze; Luke barely left his room, his fingers aching and stiff from the seemingly endless tiny stitches it took to put the last pieces together, scratches on his sides from where he'd forgotten to take out a couple pins.

Luke cracked his knuckles on his left hand, but it just felt sore when he tried on his right.

He was almost finished with the cape, halfway done hemming the hood when his door slid open without a knock.

“We need to go,” Leia said, breathing heavy like she’d been running.

Luke's hands froze with the needle halfway through the fabric. “Is it him?”

Leia nodded. “I’ve been trying to reach you, is your com not--?” She cut herself off and shook her head. “Meet me in the hangar.”

She left without closing the door.

“Oh,” Luke said to himself.  _ “Oh, _ shit, shit shit shit.”

He had to tell himself to ignore the pins he heard clattering to the ground when he stood up, cutting off the thread between his teeth so he could stuff the cape and the rest of the finished clothes into the backpack he'd left by the table.

He threw in the pieces for his lightsaber, and then took them out again to count them, making sure he hadn't missed anything; he bolted for the door in his socks before remembering to pull Han’s old boots on, giving the room a last quick once-over.

He broke into a run as soon as the door slid closed behind him.

He only slowed down once he reached the hangar, catching his breath while he looked around for Leia and Lando.

He saw Chewie first, on his way up the loading ramp to the Falcon with a large crate in his hands.

“Hey!” Luke shouted, rushing over to meet him. “Where is everyone?”

Chewie jerked his head towards the inside of the Falcon.

Lando was already gearing up the engines when Luke got to the cockpit, Leia in the copilot seat, following his instructions on what to press on her side.

“Is that everything?” Leia asked without looking behind her.

Chewie grunted that it was, setting the crate down with a heavy  _ thunk. _

“What's that?” Luke asked.

“Disguises, mostly,” Leia said, standing up so Lando and Chewie could finish the takeoff. “Can’t go in there looking like this.”

“So he  _ is _ at Jabba’s?”

Leia nodded with a grimace, sitting back behind Lando.

Luke hesitated for a second before taking the seat next to her. “What's the plan?”

“We,” Leia said, gesturing from Lando to Chewie and back to herself, “try to buy him out first. He's still in the carbonite, and it doesn't look like we can get to him any other way, with where he’s reportedly being kept, but this is a Hutt, so.” She shrugged. “Money could be the way to go. Then we threaten to blow him up, if that doesn't work.”

Luke’s eyebrows twitched upwards.

“And if  _ that _ doesn't work,” Leia said, “is where you come in.”

Luke was jostled against the back of the seat when the ship lurched into the air, tucking his backpack between his feet.

“What do I do?”

“If we can’t get Han back ourselves, we've probably been captured. We have the insurance of being valuable enough to the Empire that he probably wouldn't kill us without trying to get something out of it first.”

“Probably,” Luke mumbled.

Leia ignored it. “And in that case, you get us out.”

_ “How?” _

“You're a Jedi,” Leia said. “No one knows where the hell you’ve been. If a Jedi shows up out of the blue, that already packs a pretty good punch.”

“That's what the whole  _ look _ is for,” Lando said.

Luke had to tear his eyes away from the back of Lando's head. “What about--?”

“We’re dropping you off first, so you can finish the lightsaber,” Leia said.

“How will I know if you need me to get you?”

“This shouldn't take too long, if everything goes as we’re hoping it will,” she said. “If we haven’t gotten ahold of you by the time you make it to Jabba’s, then you know.”

Luke nodded, wringing his hands in his lap. “I have to…I have to practice,” he said, almost tripping over the backpack when he stumbled out of the chair to leave the cockpit.

“Practice what?” Leia shouted after him.

“What I’m gonna say,” Luke shouted back.

Leia didn’t have time to warn him before he almost crashed into C-3PO and R2D2, startling him back a step.

“Hello, Master Luke--”

“Hey, Threepio, Artoo.” Luke turned to face Leia and pointedly tilted his shoulder towards the droids.

“We figured you'd need some help,” Leia said. She hesitated like there was something else she had to say, but she didn’t say it, glancing briefly at C-3PO. “I think I left something in there, I’ll come with you.”

“I didn’t even--”

Leia shot him a look, and Luke stopped.

Leia stood up to lead him out of the cockpit, looking behind them once they'd made it a little ways down the hallway.

“You're probably going to need a bargaining chip,” she said quietly. “Like, if they don't accept them as a trade,  _ then _ you'll have to...use that training of yours.”

_ “What?” _ Luke hissed, and Leia had to gesture for him to keep his voice down. “We can’t just give them to--”

“We won’t, Jabba probably won’t even accept them as a trade,” she said. “You just can't go in guns-blazing like you didn't even consider a nonviolent option.”

_ “Are _ we considering it?”

Leia frowned. “We’re not actually giving him the droids. They have enough information to put the entire resistance at risk if they falls into the wrong hands.”

“Then why put them in the wrong hands?”

“Temporarily,” Leia emphasized. “To buy you some time. Can you please just trust me on this?”

Luke took a deep breath and looked back down the hallway towards the cockpit. “Does Threepio know?”

“You know he'd give it away if he did.”

“And Artoo?”

“I don't think so.”

Luke bit back a groan, but Leia’s stare was unwavering until he said, “Alright.” He took a step down the hall before stopping again with a wince, gesturing towards the cockpit. “I did actually forget something.”

Leia rolled her eyes and walked back to the cockpit with Luke, grabbing the backpack from the floor and heading out again before anyone could say anything.

He hung up his borrowed and makeshift clothes wherever there was space in the bathroom, draped across the sink and over the rod by the shower. The water setting was so rarely used that the knob for it stuck tight, stiff enough Luke was worried he might break it before it finally spurted on. The side of his hair got wet before he managed to turn it as hot as it would go, closing the door to keep the steam in.

The mirror was just as smudged as he remembered it being; he had to ignore the tightness in his chest, and thoughts of those mornings with Han, squinting through the fog on the mirror to see any marks on his neck, the thought that he might never have that again.

He  _ couldn’t _ have that again, he reminded himself, not if he did everything he could to keep his own target off of Han’s back.

Or Lando's.

He took a deep breath and shook some of the wetness out of his hair, and he forced his face into a smooth, blank expression, straightening his shoulders and imagining himself all in black.

 

Luke still hadn't come back to the cockpit by the time they were getting ready to land soon; Lando looked to Chewie, standing up to go find Luke when Chewie gave him a nod.

The bathroom door was propped open just enough to let some of the steam out, and Lando paused with his hand a few inches from the wall.

“I would advise you to--no, that's no good…”

Lando rapped his knuckles against the door, and Luke jumped, turning around to face him.

“We’re almost there, you should get changed.”

“Oh--” Luke turned again and pushed his sleeve up to turn the water off without getting it wet. “Your shower idea worked pretty well.”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Lando said, peering in to look at the fabric, mostly smooth and just a bit damp from being in the steam for so long. “How’s that speech going?”

Luke huffed a laugh, pulling the cape down and looking over the rest. “Could be worse, I think.”

Lando nodded; it looked like he had something else to say, and Luke waited, but nothing came except, “Come back in when you're ready.”

He quickly stripped out of his clothes, buttoning the new shirt with one hand while he pulled the pants up to his hips with the other; he had to roll them up at the bottom so they didn't feel bunched in the boots.

The cape felt a little silly to put on, if he was being honest with himself, over-dramatic and gaudy; Lando had been right, though, and when he looped it around his shoulders, he could almost see the Jedi everyone was expecting him to be.

Luke took a deep breath and forced his expression smooth, clearing his throat and looking in the foggy mirror one last time.

“I’d warn you not to underestimate my powers.”

Luke wrinkled his nose, unsure if it was a little much, but the ship rumbled noisily from the resistance of hitting the atmosphere, and he decided it would have to do.

He had managed to fit most of the pieces for his new lightsaber into his pockets, leaving only the outer casing to clip to his belt, and he already felt like he'd gotten back a missing piece of himself with the weight of it against his hip.

He had to steady himself against the wall when the ship lurched as it hit the ground, making his way back to the cockpit once it had settled. 

The air in the room felt heavy, anxiety buzzing between the four of them as soon as Luke stepped in.

“There's that Jedi,” Lando said, looking over his shoulder to Luke. “Now you really look the part.”

Luke smiled, but Lando's didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Luke turned to R2D2 and C-3PO and gestured behind him towards the hall. “Should we--?”

“Hang on,” Lando said, standing up and patting down his pockets before looking around to find a blaster. “If you have any problems on the way.” Lando put the blaster in Luke's hand, but he didn't pull away just yet, leaning in a bit to murmur, “Found you that new grip.”

“Thank you,” Luke said quietly; he didn't realize he was staring until Leia cleared her throat, and he pulled his hand back, tucking the blaster into his belt.

“Keep your com handy,” she said.

Luke nodded and took a deep breath, willing down the tight feeling in his chest. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

“Good luck.”

“You too.”

Luke hesitated for a second, and then he stepped out into the hall.

One of them lowered the loading ramp before he and the droids got to it, and the heat hit him like a wall, dry air stinging familiarly in his nose while he walked down. He walked a few steps away, turning back to watch the Falcon take off again.

He had to squint against the sand it kicked up, holding his breath until it died down enough for the dust to settle.

“Alright…” Luke said to himself, looking around to try to get his bearings. He could see the old hut not too far off, a pale lump nestled in between sand dunes, and he might have missed it if he hadn't been looking. “This way.”

He hummed and nodded every so often while C-3PO chattered away, R2D2 beeping in response. He couldn’t focus on anything he said if he tried, distracted by the unsettling feeling of a home that didn't feel like home anymore, like it was too small now compared to everywhere else he’d been.

He cautiously reached out to make sure they were still alone until they made it to the hut, and he couldn't tell if the fact that they  _ did _ was more unsettling than if they had run into some trouble.

Luke looked around them with his hand on the door, even though he hadn't felt anyone nearby, and it pushed open with a creak.

The hut was eerily quiet and still, like the sand absorbed any sound it might encounter; he hadn't expected it to look so untouched, the thick layer of sandy dust covering everything in sight the only indicator of how much time had passed since anyone had last been there.

Nothing had moved since his time with Obi-Wan before they left with Han and Chewie; the box that had previously held his old lightsaber was in the same place it had been when he left, still on the floor by the short table.

Luke hadn’t fully registered the sharp  _ pull _ in his insides until he was already walking towards it.

“Is there anything I can assist with, Master Luke?”

“Just Luke,” he reminded, carefully lifting the top off of the box. “But thank you, I think I've--”

He cut himself off, staring down into the contents of the box. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for while he dug through it until his fingers brushed against something hard and smooth, wrapped loosely in a bit of cloth that still wasn't enough to cover the faint thrum he felt in his fingertips.

Luke wasn't sure what he was feeling when he held it delicately in his palm; he unwrapped the cloth to reveal the crystal, letting off a dim green glow that felt so warm contrasted against the coolness of the crystal itself.

It felt whole, and it felt right, and Luke held his hand close to his chest.

He'd felt something similar when he first held the other lightsaber, wrapped up in excitement before it was broken through by anger and fear and a different sort of determination to get off-planet than he’d had before. He hadn't connected that feeling of wholeness to the lightsaber--or the crystal--until he had the new crystal in his hands; he remembered what Yoda had said, about Jedha and Ilum and the expeditions to the ice caves, the way a crystal would match itself to its user, his insistence that Luke would always be at a disadvantage for not having found his own.

He didn't have much of a frame of reference, but it felt too right, warming in his hand, for him to think it was anything less than a match.

“You've found a kyber crystal?” C-3PO asked, shock clear in his voice.  _ “Here?” _

“That’s what I was hoping for,” Luke said, carefully rolling the crystal over in his palm.

“I didn’t want to be discouraging earlier, but it was incredibly improbable for you to--”

“But not impossible,” Luke interrupted quietly, wrapping the cloth back around the crystal to set it down on the low table next to him. He pulled the crumpled sketch of his lightsaber from his pocket, smoothing it out on his thigh. He held it up with one hand while he poked through the box with the other, skimming the last few notes that weren't crossed out, and if he’d found the crystal, surely Obi-Wan would have the rest too…

The table was stacked with bits of metal by the time he got through the box, unfamiliar aside from seeing them when Yoda had him take apart and reassemble his lightsaber.

He didn't have anything to cross off what he had found, and he had to look over the list a couple times, comparing it to the mess on the table, before he realized something was still missing.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, stiffly standing up and looking around the hut. It had always been too sparse to feel like much of a home, almost empty aside from what Obi-wan had  _ needed. _

It would almost be easier to know where to start looking, he thought, if the place had been more of a mess.

“Is there anything you need, M--Luke?” C-3PO asked, still standing by the door.

“Yes, actually,” Luke said, going over to show him the sketch, pointing at the thin, tight coils holding the crystal in place. “If you happen to see something like that…?”

“I will keep my eyes out.”

Luke went back over to the table and pocketed the crystal before looking anywhere else. There was nothing underneath it, no other mysterious boxes for him to look through; he knew they couldn’t have been there for long, but every second without being able to put the lightsaber together just felt like more and more time before he could get Han back, and what if he was too late--

Luke shook his head to himself and took a deep breath.

Stress without action wouldn't get him anywhere.

He touched the crystal through his pocket, breathing in slow and even until the anxious pounding in his chest died down, easing his mind clearer on each exhale. 

He closed his eyes and pictured the coils as clearly as he could remember them, narrowly missing the box by the table when he took a step to the side; he didn't stop until the toe of his boot hit the adjacent wall.

Luke opened his eyes and frowned at the small window. He had figured it would be a longshot, finding those last pieces like this, but if that pull was leading him outside they could be anywhere…

He looked down at the windowsill with a huff before looking out through the glass again, lined with stones and.

He paused.

He looked at the windowsill again.

“Why would he ever…” Luke mumbled to himself, picking up the two coils from either end of the windowsill. It would have been so easy to miss if he didn’t know what they looked like from the first lightsaber, left with the rocks like nothing but a couple pointless decorations.

The lightsaber wouldn’t work without them, and Luke realized that was probably exactly why they were left there, as overlookable as they were necessary.

“I found them,” Luke said, holding up the coils for C-3PO to see. He craned his neck a bit to look out the window, squinting against the brightness of the lowering suns. “We should get going.”

“But, s--Luke, your lightsaber--”

“There's a cave on the way,” Luke said, stuffing his pockets with the last pieces. That backpack would have been nice. “If they do need us, it won't take as long to get to Jabba’s from there.”

 

Luke couldn't help checking his com every few minutes on their way to the cave, forcing his breathing steady against the mounting anxiety of  _ they should have called by now, they need you, hurry up hurry up hurry up. _

He didn't last long in the cape, draping it over his arm and swiping the back of his free hand over his forehead. He’d almost forgotten the way the air would sting in his sinuses from all the dust, with the cold burn of the air on Hoth and the damp softness in his lungs on Yavin 4; he tried not to think too much about how nice it had been to have such easy access to running water.

It would be cooler in the cave, he reminded himself, and he didn't have time to stop, even if it would have done any good in the blistering suns, his and the droids’ shadows the only shade he could see.

The yellowy beige of all the sand felt endless, and Luke had to look behind them every so often to check their footsteps to make sure they were still going in a straight line.

The deep shadow in the rock face was the only indicator of the cave being anything but another dune, and Luke might have run for it if the sand didn't make every step heavier, like it was sucking his boots to the ground.

Luke took a deep breath and forced one foot in front of the other.

He leaned back against the wall of the cave as soon as he got to it, pressing as much of himself as he could against the rough rock, cool from being out of the suns. He waited until he couldn’t hear his heartbeat in his ears anymore before pushing himself forward, wiping at a smudge of dust on his pants before looking around for a space to work.

C-3PO stayed by the opening to the cave, anxiously looking out despite Luke's repeated reassurances on the way there that they were alone.

Luke decided it would be easier to let him than convince him that this was the safe part.

He looped the cape back around his shoulders when there was nowhere to put it, laying out the lightsaber pieces on a lump of stone jutting out from the wall. He saved the crystal for last, running his fingers over the edges, and after a moment of hesitation he took out his com, too, just in case.

He looked down at the pieces and rearranged them, and then rearranged them again, and then he got to work.

It was like putting together a puzzle he’d done a thousand times before, going largely by the muscle memory left behind from all those times Yoda had had him take apart and reassemble his first lightsaber. He had to close his eyes and go by feel to snap the crystal into place, pushing it in and twisting until it was nested snugly in the outer casing; he was almost certain he could feel it thrumming when he set the tight coils inside, pressing lightly against the sides of the crystal.

The only thing left on the slab jutting out from the cave wall was his com; he rolled the lightsaber from one hand to the other, running the fingers of his right hand over the ridges on the handle, grippier than the first so it still felt comfortingly sturdy through the dull sensation in his palm.

It felt  _ right. _

He gripped it in his right hand, his thumb hovering over the switch to turn it on.

He took a deep breath before letting himself press it, and his eyes went wide at the bright, sharp green shooting out from the handle.

His hand felt fine; he wiggled his fingers around the handle, checking his grip and the feeling of the synthetic skin, no different than usual, none of the stiff numbness like that time with the blaster.

He couldn't help staring for a few seconds before hitting the button again.

He looked down at the com while he snapped the lightsaber back onto his belt, willing it to crackle with Leia or Lando telling him to get back to the Falcon, they had Han, but nothing came.

He took a deep breath and wiped the dust off his hands, turning to the entrance of the cave.

“Artoo, I need you to record a message for me.”

 

Luke sent the droids ahead of him, with promises that he would catch up, he just needed Jabba to have time to make a decision, to let the flattery and the thinly veiled threat stew for a while.

He doubted Jabba would take the trade, like Leia had said; he knew it would go more smoothly for himself and Leia and Lando if he did, but Luke couldn’t help worrying that he  _ would, _ that they wouldn't be able to get the droids back, that they could even be destroyed before he got there.

Jabba had easier access to droids than anyone else on Tatooine.

The trade might not be good enough.

Luke repeated his practiced lines in his head to try to ignore the thought of it. The anxiety that if the trade might not be enough, then he might not be either, made itself harder to ignore the longer he was alone, trekking towards the huge, ominous block of Jabba’s Palace, a dark gouge in the monotonous beige of the sand dunes surrounding it.

Luke didn't let himself stop until he’d made it to the doors. They were so tall he couldn't see where the top of the door met the rest of the wall when he craned his neck, squinting against the suns before flipping his hood up and taking the last few steps to the doors.

A camera poked out from the wall, moving jerkily to focus on him, and Luke was sure he could see a lens expand and retract before moving a few inches closer.

“I’d like to request an audience with Jabba.”

**Author's Note:**

> @hansolosbi dot tumblr!


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